Scar's Samsara
by Sophronius
Summary: Synopsis: From Scar's perspective, it never made much sense to justify a divine kingship through a perpetual cycle of death and suffering, though that wasn't what was really bothering him. One little push and all his troubles would be over – if only that darn cub wasn't so cute! (Rational!Scar raises Simba as his own. COMPLETE!)
1. Samsara

The idea of rational fiction is to rewrite a story from a rationalist's point of view, and see what changes from there. Of course, there is only one lion in the Pridelands smart enough to fit the bill…

Samsara is the Buddhist cycle of death, suffering and rebirth which we must ultimately escape from, and which I imagine the Circle of Life was roughly based on.

(Cover art: Scar and simba from DeviantArt, by Wickfield)

* * *

 _"_ _Scar! Help me!"_

For once in his life Mufasa's proud face was marred by genuine horror, his eyes wide with fear not for his family or his subjects but for his own unsightly life. His nails dragged along the cliff face as he vainly sought purchase on the unforgiving rock, raw primordial terror taking over and fuelling his body with a desperate animalistic frenzy just as it would for any other beast.

It was sights like these that put Scar into a contemplative mood.

You see, it had not always been the case that Scar was up there, posing majestically upon the cliff's edge and gazing down at his poor downtrodden older brother. In fact, until recently it could be said that the opposite had frequently been the case! It felt almost like yesterday, when Mufasa had so magnanimously explained to him the many ways in which his innate superiority, their parents' favouritism and divine ancestry justified his absolute rule over all living things, including Scar himself.

 _"_ _Brother, help me! I'm slipping!"_

It had, in fact, been exactly four days, three hours and forty-six minutes ago. Scar did not bother counting seconds, because he was a big-picture guy.

* * *

"Scar! I am to inform you that His Royal Highness is on his way, so you'd better be prepared!"

"What is it now, Zazu?" Scar looked up drowsily from the cool stone resting spot which his brother had so graciously granted him access to. "Unless the cave is about to collapse in on me, I don't want to hear about it until lunch." He yawned and languidly stretched his spindly body, before directing his best predatory grin at the red-beaked hornbill. "Or did my brother send you here to serve as the _entrée_?"

Scar honestly did not know what he had done to raise Mufasa's hackles this time. He had been playing nice, even going as far as to show up for the presentation of Simba back when the little hairball was born. It was not like he had much of a choice: Even if the entire continent had gathered there to celebrate his renewed irrelevance, he could hardly afford to make any more enemies than he already had.

"Hah, no." Zazu clacked his beak in dry amusement. For all that the royal majordomo was a jumped-up gofer he possessed at least a modicum of humour, which was more than could be said for the rest of them. "His majesty wishes to discuss your recent transgressions with you. I took the liberty of clearing the next few days of your agenda – unless of course you don't want to stick to just the highlights?"

"That's enough, Zazu." A shadow passed between them as a silhouette entered the cave, his muscled form and crimson mane outlined in gold by the light pouring in from outside. "Scar. What is this I'm hearing about you calling the Circle of Life into question, right in front of my subjects and my own son?"

A flash of annoyance overtook Scar's features despite himself. That had not been part of any scheme of his, but mere idle talk with a couple of lionesses after sharing a good meal beneath the stars. He had been in one of his rare good moods, but even so he should have known better than to think he could let his guard down without suffering repercussions. "Mufasa. Don't tell me the captain of the Lion Guard is no longer allowed to discuss philosophy with his kin?"

His brother stared at him with that all-too-familiar disapproving frown, plainly trying to figure out the hidden motivations behind a scheme that did not exist. "Scar, you cannot tell me that you don't understand something that even my son has had explained to him. The Circle of Life is what connects all living creatures in the kingdom and guides every aspect of our lives. Without it, we are just… animals."

Scar felt his lips tug into a lazy smirk. "A noble sentiment, coming from someone at the very top of the food chain. Tell me: Have you ever managed to convince an antelope of this while you're eating them?"

"Hah, I never figured _you_ for a vegetarian." Zazu hopped as close to Scar as he dared, then took a few hurried steps back when he smelled his breath. "Herbivores are not exactly the brightest stars of the animal kingdom, you know – a diet of grass hardly lends itself to a steady production of protein." He raised his beak and sniffed. "I mean, have you ever _tried_ holding a meaningful conversation with a zebra?"

"I'll admit those interactions tend to degrade to screaming pretty quickly," Scar said with a slight smile.

Mufasa let out a long-suffering sigh. "Scar, when we die, our bodies are consumed by plants and insects, just like any other creature. Even we lions are not so different – for all that you would like us to be."

"Hmm, yes," said Scar. "That _is_ a bit of a downer, isn't it? But antelopes are eaten by worms too, _and_ they're hunted down and mauled to death by ravenous lions. It, ah, seems to me they still get the short end of that particular stick." There was an ire slowly building up inside of Scar, as it always did when this topic came up. His was not the fiery spirit of a young cub, however, that burned brightly but faded just as quickly. These were smouldering embers left behind by countless brushfires, waiting for the slightest kindling to reignite as a truly terrifying inferno. "And then there are the Hyenas," he continued. "They are not herbivores, but they are still forced to live off scraps in an elephant graveyard. Unfortunate situation, that."

"Hyenas?" Zazu looked like he had just swallowed a cockroach – though in fact he would have probably quite enjoyed that. "You'd let those slobbery, mangy, boneheaded scavengers into our kingdom? They have no culture, no education to speak of, and no capacity for restraint whatsoever. They'd just eat our food, reproduce past any sustainable limit, and what's worse my nest's property value would go to _pot_."

Scar shrugged his bony shoulders. "Oh, I'm not questioning our natural superiority, Zazu. Just, ah… I detect a certain incongruity in using the heavenly samsara of murder and torment as justification for our oppressive regime, and calling it the Circle of _Life_." He grinned without any trace of humour. "Have we considered naming it the Circle of Death instead? It's a tad more evocative."

Mufasa's frown deepened. "Scar, death is just as much a part of life as birth, no different in essence from the time before you were born. I would have thought you put that childish fear aside a long time ago."

"Ah, yes, I remember having this conversation." His fury was reaching that point where it went beyond being any mere part of him, and instead transcended into a festering blackness that consumed the entirety of who he _was_. He walked past Mufasa, making sure to brush close enough to be disrespectful, and gestured towards the tiny figure that stood hidden in the cave's entrance. "Still, how did you put it? I find it hard to believe that something which even a child can understand would be beyond you."

"Simba," Mufasa said to the figure. "What are you doing here? I told you not to eaves-drop anymore."

"I'm sorry." the young cub meekly flattened his ears and his head against the ground. "I was just…"

"Just curious," Scar finished, "as is only right and proper for a lad!" He placed one paw around Simba's shoulders, eliciting a strangled mew as he nearly squished his lithe little body in the process. "My dear boy, I'm afraid I have some dreadful news to tell you. It seems that I and everybody else you know are fated to die and become food for the worms. How does that make you feel?"

 _"_ _Scar,"_ Mufasa said warningly.

The boy looked at him, eyes wide with horror. "I – I don't want you to die, uncle Scar."

"And I don't want to die either! It seems we share a distinct preference on that count." Scar's voice had gained an edge and he spoke with an almost manic glee; he was well past the point of caring what Mufasa thought of him now. "I have some good news for you, though – it would seem that all the kings of the past get to live on as stars, whatever _that_ means, and so you and your dear dad get to live forever to share your wisdom with the next generations. But ah, not me, I'm afraid, and not your friends either."

Scar could see the growing dismay forcing a desperate calculation in the boy's eyes. "But I don't wanna be up there all alone! Can't I share the kingdom with you when I grow up?" He turned to his father. "Dad, could you just make him and mum king for a day, so they get to be up there with me as well?"

Scar's grin threatened to stretch outside his skin. "Ah, now there's a clever lad. So full of bright ideas!"

"ENOUGH!" Mufasa leaped at him with a roar so loud and powerful that it almost physically pushed him back, and Scar cursed his own cowardice even as he scrambled away. The full muscle-bound form of the king stood looming over him, snarling at him with an almost palpable bloodlust. "I told you not to bring my son into this! Are you _trying_ to inflict mental trauma on him?"

Scar tried to retreat further, but found the cave's cold stone wall pressing against his back. He faced his brother's snarling visage as only a cornered animal could. "I wouldn't say that _I_ am the one frightening the poor lad right now, _brother._ "

Mufasa tore his gaze away to glance at where Simba stood trembling. "Zazu, take Simba to his mother."

The boy hesitated. "But…"

"Go!"

Zazu landed next to Simba, evidently having sought refuge in the air, and placed a comforting wing on his shoulder. "Come on, let's leave them to it. Trust me; you're not going to want to be involved in this."

Mufasa waited just long enough for Simba to disappear before his growl redoubled in intensity. "Do you have _any_ idea how long it will take me to coach him into sleeping easily again, without dreams in which he is devoured by earthworms? The boy still has nightmares from your last _discussion_ , and already you seek to inflict them anew!"

"Fear is the unfortunate price to pay for gaining a modest understanding of the world." Scar gave Mufasa his best contemptuous glare. "See, that's what I never understood about you, brother: Tell me, do you genuinely believe that it is preferable for those around you to be ignorant in order to maintain control, or is it simply that you're afraid of any power that you yourself cannot master? I ask only for academic reasons, you understand. Still, the boy is far brighter than you – he will learn, given time."

"Be _careful_ , Scar." Mufasa's eyes narrowed dangerously, and he lowered his head so he could look Scar directly in the eyes. It was perhaps less terrifying than the unpredictable animalistic rage he had shown before, yet it was still unnerving in its own right. "I may allow you to take your fears and insecurities out on me if it helps with your personal issues, but I do not forgive anyone who hurts my family."

Scar stared at him, too dumbstruck to think of any cutting reply. The implication that he was not family hurt more than he would have expected, or ever would admit. And the way he had said it… Be careful of _what_ , exactly? _'Remember that as king I could have you killed at any moment'?_ Was he supposed to feel thankful that as the king's brother he was occasionally allowed to speak his mind without being punished for it?

Because that was the essence of it, wasn't it? How could there ever be a real brotherly relationship between the two of them when one dangled the life of the other so casually from his claws? Scar turned away, not willing to face Mufasa in that moment – for if he did their fight would only escalate further.

"Don't turn your back on me, Scar!"

Scar growled back without thinking. "Oh no, Mufasa, perhaps _you_ shouldn't turn your back on _me._ "

 _"_ _Is that a challenge?"_ Before Scar could even register what was happening, his legs buckled and then he was lying on his back with the full weight of his older brother on top of him, heavy paws crushing his chest and slavering teeth bared in front of his face. "If you want to fight, let's do it right now!"

"Temper, temper," Scar chided, because it was the thing to say, but though Mufasa let go it was already far too late to change anything. The fear and helplessness which he had been made to feel finally distilled into their purest essence, snuffing out the last of the fire which he had once imagined to be hate. "I wouldn't dream of entering a physical contest with you. Now, if this kingdom had a more sensible system for transferring power – crowning whoever comes up with the best insult, for example – then certainly. But when it comes to _brute strength_ , I'm afraid I'm at the shallow end of the gene pool."

There was no satisfaction to be found in his barbs, nor in having the last word as Mufasa silently withdrew. It was only then that Scar appreciated what had truly motivated those insults in the first place, and what it was that he had ultimately lost. He lay back on the cool stone slab in his dark cave, and pondered long and hard.

 _I accept your challenge, brother…_

* * *

 _"_ _Help!"_

Scar slowly made his way down the cliff, taking care not to trip over the loose rocks that littered the path to the valley below. The entire ravine was covered in a cloud of dust that had been kicked up by the stampeding wildebeests, obscuring all sight and choking the lungs like a poison mist.

 _"_ _Somebody! Anybody…"_

When it came to understanding Scar, people tended to fall into one of two camps: There were those who imagined he had simply been born evil, and so he deserved what he got. The other group, however, imagined that something terrible must have happened to him in his past: An event suitably grand and dramatic to be commensurate with the bitter person he had eventually become.

In truth, it was the little things that mattered. A great tree could weather the grandest storm and survive the foulest sickness, only to wither and fall should an endless drizzle cause a rot to set in at the roots. A decay that could not be seen, but which slowly spread and grew over time...

It was always the little things that passed beneath your notice, right until it was too late.

He found what he was looking for underneath the withered tree in the centre of the valley, where he had told the boy to stay. Simba had draped his father's paw over his body as though the two of them were only sleeping, and for the first time in four days Scar felt a shadow of doubt cast over him.

"Simba, what have you done?"

The boy looked at him with bright, horror-filled eyes, and Scar once again felt that shadowy grasp in his chest, squeezing him almost like a physical force. "There were wildebeests, and, and he tried to save me…" Tears trickled down the boy's cheeks. "It was – it was an accident. I didn't _mean_ for it to happen."

"It's not your fault," he said, and to his surprise he found that he meant it. He pulled the boy towards him, away from his brother's corpse, and clasped his furry little body against his forepaw. "Still, the king _is_ dead – and that means you are now king. Do you think that you ought to rule the Pridelands, Simba?"

The boy shook his head. "I don't… I don't want to rule anything anymore. I just wanna go home."

Scar nodded. He nudged the boy along with him, away from the scene of tragedy. "Come, Simba. I will rule the kingdom for you until you are ready. We shall be kings together, just like you wanted." His late brother's words regarding nightmares resounded in his ears, and for a moment the thought of having to explain all this to Mufasa in the next life unnerved him. "Try not to grieve too much: Your father is not truly dead. You will see him again one day, and you might even be able to talk with him before then." Though it would probably be best to keep Rafiki away from him for the next few years at least – Scar did not know if being a spirit would do much to cool his brother's wrath.

The thought seemed to console the boy a little at least, and as the two of them walked back home his sniffling stopped, and his tears soon dried under the blazing sun. "Uncle Scar… do you think we could make mum and Nala king for a day too, so that we can all be together again up there in the stars?"

Scar smiled ever so slightly. Somehow, it felt better than his usual sneers. "My dear lad, under our reign, _everybody_ will be king for a day."

* * *

 **A/N:** That's it for the first chapter! Please leave a review to let me know what you think, and share it with anyone who you think might enjoy it. I originally intended this chapter to be a stand alone story, but I decided to continue it seeing its popularity, so read on! The story is already finished, so there no need to worry about it being discontinued halfway through. :)

For more Rational fiction, please check out my other (much longer) Naruto story, The Need to Become Stronger, Less Wrong's Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality, or go to r/rational on Reddit.


	2. Tirthika

**A/N:** As the first chapter turned out to be quite popular, I have decided to continue where we left off and make this a full story! You can expect about 6 emotional and fast-paced chapters in total, with a (hopefully) satisfying climax in the end.

Tirthika is the Buddhist concept known as the 'Outer Path': Basically, it refers to someone trying to take the easy way out to escape the cycle of pain known as Samsara, and contrasts with the correct 'Inner Path'.

* * *

"Good morning, Sire!"

Scar swiped blindly at the source of the blaring sound, only to have it fly away and out of arm's reach, which he found terribly unsporting. He supposed he could have gotten up and chased after it, but Zira had become decidedly more receptive to his advances ever since Simba had abdicated the throne to him, and, well… he never did have his brother's prodigious stamina.

"I would never have become king if I knew it involved getting up in the morning," he groaned into his rocky pillow.

"Oh, chin up, Sire! It's another bright new day under your glorious reign," Zazu said with ear-splitting cheer. Scar was fairly certain that from the hornbill's perspective, being able to wake Scar up each morning was the only consoling factor regarding his brother's death, and the damnable bird was going to milk it for all it was worth. "Now with your blessing Sire, it is high time for the morning report."

Scar drowsily gathered his limbs underneath him, only to yelp in pain when he promptly placed his paw in the skeletal remains of his evening feast. "Go on then, man, out with it! What new and exciting crisis afflicts us this time?"

"Well, since you asked, Sire, you'll be aggrieved to learn that the great Aminifu has passed away."

Scar winced as he pulled a bone fragment from his sensitive forepaw. "Who?"

"Aminifu. One of your late brother's oldest friends? Revered leader of the elephant tribe?"

"Oh, the one that smelled like week-old dung. What about him?"

Scar was rewarded with an irate glare from Zazu. "The elephants are _expecting_ the king to come and pay his respects. You are to offer your condolences in the native Elephantese, as per ancient custom."

Scar groaned theatrically, cradling his wounded paw across his chest. "Oh _Zazu_ , have some compassion for your poor old liege. You cannot expect me to travel all the way to the edge of the Pridelands for every trifling inconvenience that afflicts the kingdom. I have a bad back, you know."

Zazu was standing there with both wings on his flanks, wearing the least-impressed expression Scar had seen on him so far. "…I'll go beg the queen mother to go in your place."

"No!" Scar shot up, all thoughts of sleep and injury forgotten. Having the Pridelanders get used to following Sarabi's lead was the absolute last thing he needed right now. "No, ah, I mean… what if Simba were to go instead? Think about it: In my attendance the elephants would no doubt find an excuse to take offense at the slightest slip of the tongue and harbour a grudge against me forever. Simba however could come right out and say he smelled of excrement, and they would all think it was _adorable_."

Zazu seemed to mull this over. "It _would_ be good for the young prince to get acquainted with the finer touches of ruling a kingdom… and I could take the opportunity to introduce him to a different culture and a new language. Good thinking, Sire! We'll make a king out of you yet."

"Yes, very good," said Scar, plonking back down onto his cool stone bed. "Now, if that was all…"

"There are also some rumours that you murdered your brother."

Scar jumped up. _"What?"_

"Oh, it's just idle gossip, Sire – the kind you always get with a sudden transition of power. I doubt anyone really believes it." He gave a feathery shrug. "Although, it certainly doesn't help that you disrupted the established social order with your hare-brained popularity-boosting scheme of making everybody king for a day." He hopped over to the cave's exit and took the time to stretch and bask in the morning sun. "Beautiful day, isn't it, Sire? Really makes you want to take wing and soar through the open sky."

Scar limped after him, cursing his poor luck with every step. "What do you mean, hare-brained scheme? I'm offering them immortality! They should be chanting my name in reverence from here to the Outlands."

"Yes, well, if you had thought to consult your royal advisor before declaring your intentions from on top of Pride Rock, I might have reminded you that _most_ animals don't harbour ambitions of eternal splendour and grandeur. What they want is a safe and stable existence that does not contradict their understanding of the natural order, with a clearly defined social hierarchy that leaves them safe in the knowledge that no matter how low on the ladder they are, there is always a hyena or a zebra somewhere below to kick down. You see, it somewhat detracts from the promise of a perfect afterlife if it turns out you have to share it with the boorish neighbour who insulted your mother."

Scar cursed under his breath. Somehow he had taken his own perspective for granted to such an extent that he had actually expected people to be grateful to him, but in retrospect that was pure wishful thinking. "Fine, I'll retract the statement. Tell them that I merely meant that the extraordinary boon of divine status shall be offered as a reward for the king's most loyal and able servants."

"Very good sire," Zazu said, looking unbearably smug – which was quite impressive considering the lack of lips to smirk with. "I'll just arrange the preparations for my own coronation then, shall I? King Zazu does have a nice ring to it, if I do say so myself. It's preferable to King Trash, in any case."

This time Scar _did_ pounce at him, but his target promptly flew up and left him biting dust.

"Speaking of wasteful things," Zazu continued, flying circles around Scar's head as if to symbolise his growing headache, "there is also the matter of the burgeoning drought. It hasn't rained a day since you became king, which hasn't exactly done much to endear your subjects to you."

Scar swiped at the interminable pest without much hope of success. "How is a lack of rain _my fault?"_

"Well Sire, they're saying that you upset the Circle of Life with your talk of radical change, causing us to lose favour with the great Kings of the Past, and that this drought is their divine punishment."

Scar stared at him, gobsmacked. "They really believe that our _past kings_ would respond to a petty disagreement with regards to my executive style by _cursing the entire kingdom_ which they, which they themselves… used to rule…"

"Sire?"

"It's nothing," Scar said. _He wouldn't, would he? No, that's wishful thinking again; of course he bloody well would._ "Has there been any sight of Rafiki yet? We need his spiritual guidance, now more than ever." The damnable monkey had a habit of disappearing into the wilderness at unpredictable intervals, which turned out to be both a blessing and a curse in this instance. "Also, my coronation will not be seen as official by all without his ritual ceremony." _Every second of delay weakens my authority…_

"No, sire. Do you wish for me to send out a search party?"

"No, I'll find someone to take care of it." Scar waved him off, and finally the bird left Scar alone to ponder his problems. He gazed up at the sky, which was indeed free of any clouds, but the sunny weather no longer seemed so benevolent in nature. The humid air almost seemed to press down on him, willing him to fail.

 _Brother, even in death you seek to spite me. From hell's heart, you stab at me…_

* * *

Scar made his way down the hill and to the next cave, ignoring the pain that flared up his paw with each step. It was becoming increasingly obvious that he was in need of a second-in-command, and for the sake of his plans and his continued existence he would suffer whatever discomfort was needed.

He had realized a long time ago that there was no such thing as a sole ruler: He could recruit a whole army of Hyenas if he promised them enough meat, but it would do nothing to prevent the lionesses from subtly undermining his efforts, nor would it stop his subjects from failing to receive urgent messages.

It was not that Scar did not trust Zazu, exactly – serving was all the featherbrain knew. Zazu had actually _begged_ Mufasa to be allowed to serve him back when they were still children: The thought of betraying his rightful king would quite literally never enter his mind.

Still, for this particular role, he required someone with a bit more… venom.

"Who's there? Get off our turf!"

The voice that had spoken belonged to a mangy cub which had been squatting near the cave's entrance, chewing on a root until Scar's arrival. "Where's your mother, lad? I need to talk to her."

"The name's _Nuka_ ," the cub growled. It was truly a pitiful sight, scraggly and unwashed as it was. Probably had flees, too. "And I don't hafta do anything you say – you're not my real dad!"

"Nor will I ever be confused for such," Scar said, peering inside the cave. "Zira? Are you in there?"

"My liege! What a pleasant surprise." The lioness had appeared behind him, and instantly dropped the leg of zebra she had been carrying home to perform a curtsy. Like him, she preferred to keep her privacy intact by living away from the rest of the Pride, which was just one of many things they had in common.

"Zira, I told you, I'm only your liege at night. Call me Scar."

"Of course Scar, anything for you," she purred, brushing up close against him. She turned and growled at her kid. "Nuka, what are you standing around for? Go make yourself useful and take this leg inside."

"Of course, mother! Right away, mother." The boy practically pounced after the hump of meat, as if expecting it to run away if given the chance. Scar stared after it, nonplussed.

"Now tell me Scar, what _can_ I do for you?" She was still rubbing against him as they walked towards the cave, using enough force and vigour as to nearly tip him over. Her affections had been pleasant enough at first, but he was starting to find her enthusiasm vaguely unsettling.

"I do have a task for you, in fact – one that I would only ever assign to someone I trust completely." He ignored the grin she beamed at him. "Tell me, do you remember the royal mjuzi, Rafiki?"

"That old monkey? Why, is he in your way? Do you need me to pounce on him?"

"No. Well, not yet, anyway. He is in my way because he is said to converse with the spirits of the past, which you might realize could prove… problematic, in my case." He was relieved to see she had the sense not to react to this declaration. "If he were to return to the Pridelands, it could spell disaster. On the other hand, I require him to answer some urgent questions regarding the spirit world."

She gave him an empty look. "Why? If he's dead, then it doesn't matter anymore, does it?"

He sighed. "Zira, you're a clever young lioness full of untapped potential, but you still have a ways to go when it comes to subtlety." As they entered the cave the light dimmed and the air grew damp and cool. The two of them hunkered down opposite each other, Zira's red eyes gleaming in the dark and boring deep into his own. "Think about it from my perspective: My poor older brother dies, and immediately after a drought strikes the kingdom. Moreover, I might have crowned myself king and call you queen, but there is no guarantee that this offers either of us eternal life. And even if we truly are immortal now, we still don't know if the afterlife is desirable at all. There are simply too many unknown variables."

There was a thoughtful frown on her vulpine face, which was encouraging to see. "So what? You don't need _him_ for that. Scar, you're captain of the Lion Guard – wielder of the Elder Roar! They say you could call down lighting from the sky and bathe your enemies in fire, back when you were at the height of your power. Surely no mere monkey could possess a stronger connection to the spirit world than _you_."

Scar's response was interrupted when Nuka entered the cave, startling them both by revealing that he was still tugging the leg of meat along with him. He dragged it between them, looked expectantly at his mother for a second, then shot a reproachful glare at Scar and sauntered away.

Scar tore off a chunk of meat and chewed carefully as he sought his next words. "Zira, I lost my connection to the spirit world a long time ago, when I… experimented, in their usage." Scar had always thought that was terribly unfair: How was he to knowthat their power was not to be used in anger? As far as he was concerned, that was what eldritch weapons of mass destruction were _for._ "Steeped in wisdom and lore I may be, but there is no advantage to being attuned to the spirit world when said spirits will not even give you the time of day."

She frowned, clearly unhappy with the answer, and gulped down a chunk of meat. "Then what do you want me to do?"

"I want you to travel through the desert and head to the oasis, and find Rafiki. The royal mjuzi has an inexplicable dislike of me, so don't let out that I sent you – in fact, better to make no mention of me at all. Tell him that prince Simba has been having strange dreams ever since the death of his father, and he is in need of spiritual assistance. That should be enough to lure the old monkey back to the Pridelands."

Zira's red eyes lit up. "And then we pounce on him, take his bakora staff, and use it to reawaken your divine powers and subdue the entire world under your glorious reign! _Brilliant_ , Scar."

"Ah, no." He put back down the piece of Zebra he had intended to devour. "First of all, Zira, when discussing our evil plans we use our inside voice." She grinned sheepishly. "Secondly, I just finished explaining to you that I have no power of my own – I'm hardly going to single-handedly tame a dozen capricious god-kings to my will with a pointy stick and a bit of pluck. Finally, if you attack Rafiki and take his staff, that's hardly going to make him inclined to answer my questions, now is it?"

"I could _make_ him be inclined," she grumbled.

"Yes, well, just because it is _possible_ to achieve your goals with violence doesn't mean you should." He worked his way through the last of his zebra – Zira had long ago finished hers, having offered him the larger part and lacking a propensity for chewing. There was something decidedly unnerving about the way she watched him eat. "No, far better to let him believe he's performing his regal duty as spiritual advisor to the Prince. Accompany him to Flatrock Ridge – that's the ridge with the big flat rock on it," he explained, seeing her expression. "After coming all this way, he will be reluctant to just turn around when it is revealed that Prince Simba is feeling poorly and cannot meet him there in person."

She cocked her head uncertainly. "And that's when I pounce on him?"

"No! There is to be no pouncing, torture, bloodshed, or for that matter any kind of wanton violence whatsoever. You will trick him into coming here, he will answer my questions, and then that's it!"

She bit her lip. "So… you want me to go look for someone you don't want to be found, so you can ask him questions you don't want answered, and then let him go in order to prevent him from escaping?"

"Yes, precisely."

Her mouth split into a grin, baring teeth which gleamed even in the dim light of the cave. "Oh Scar, you know what I love about you? Your mind is so delightfully _twisted."_

* * *

Scar walked the last leg of his journey up the entryway to Pride Rock, his injured paw aching with each consecutive step. The first stars were already showing in the evening sky, as his daily activities had taken longer than expected – Zira's insatiable pouncing not least among them.

At last he entered the royal den, where all the other lionesses were getting huddled up for sleep. His brother had slept right in the middle of them on his stone dais, and for the sake of seeming less like an outsider he probably should have continued that tradition – but Scar had never been able to sleep unless he was alone. He did not understand how Mufasa could stand being surrounded and watched by others at all times; never mind how he had even managed with his wife.

Said wife was now rising to meet him, though there was no warmth to be found in her welcome. "Scar."

"That's _king_ Scar now, unless you have some truly miraculous news to tell me with regards to my brother." Sarabi was impossible to read, that was the problem. Was her cool demeanour intended to broadcast defiance, or was she merely assuming the proper pose for a widow in mourning?

"Mufasa was king too," she said with half-lidded eyes. All the other lionesses were staring at him now, and not in a friendly way. "Yet I never called him Sire."

He bit back a sharp comment with regards to her being free to call him whatever she liked if she performed the same services for him as she had for Mufasa. "I suppose I could make an exception to royal tradition for the sake of my brother's queen," he said instead.

Her expression stayed perfectly fixed for a second, but then she gave the slightest nod. _A gesture intended to display power over me?_ "The draught is getting worse," she said eventually. "All across the Pridelands the vegetation withers and dies. Scar, there is talk among the herds of moving on."

"I'm _working_ on it," he growled back. She had to know that there was nothing he could realistically do about it, which meant that she was trying to subvert his authority after all – challenging him in front of the others. The lionesses were grouped together now, as impenetrable as a formation of elephants.

Frustrated, he turned and marched towards the exit – coming here had clearly been a mistake.

"Scar… he asked for you. He said he still cannot sleep."

Scar paused. "Why don't you take care of it? You're his mother."

"He asked for _you_ , Scar."

He hesitated, looking back at the circle of lionesses. Slowly their formation parted, revealing a single cub lying alone on the stone dais in the centre. He walked down their middle, ignoring the looks they were giving him. They retreated to a respectful distance at least, as he approached the crown prince.

"You still have those nightmares, huh?"

The boy nodded mutely, and Scar felt another stab in his chest. For a moment he imagined it was Mufasa's own ghost driving the talon in, and he could not help but wonder if his brother would damn him harder for having the gall to act like a parent to Simba, or for failing to do so.

The lad looked up at him, unblinking brown eyes showing signs of insufficient sleep. "Could you tell me a story, uncle Scar?"

He sat down next to the boy. He was no good at these things, but nightmares, at least, he understood. "I could tell you about the Lion Guard of old, if you like." He had always loved hearing those stories himself, as a cub. "I could tell you about the great battles that took place during Ahadi's age, or perhaps the time when we rescued your maternal grandfather from a tree. That one's always good for a laugh."

Simba sat up, some of the weariness retreating from his eyes. "I wanna hear about _you_ , uncle Scar. Is it true what aunt Zira said, that you could call lightning from the sky and bathe your enemies in fire?"

"She told you about that, did she?" He frowned, trying to decide how he felt about that. "Listen, Simba. I don't think Zira is a good influence on you right now."

"Why not? She's your friend, isn't she?"

"Yes she is," he said, uneasily. "But just because someone is a friend that doesn't make them a good person – and just because someone isn't a good person, that doesn't mean they can't be your friend. Some people find it easy to be liked by everyone, but others… sometimes people are just born with a lot of anger and frustration in them, but that doesn't mean they don't deserve to be loved."

Simba tilted his head. "Uncle Scar, are you talking about yourself?"

"No, I'm talking about your mother. She's a terrible person, but we all love her anyway."

Simba giggled. "It's true! She can be really mean sometimes, like how she makes me go to bed even though I can't sleep."

"I had that too sometimes," Scar said sagely. "You know what I always did? I'd just sneak away at night and occupy myself with something else, like studying ancient mural paintings in the caverns below – I'd still fall unconscious eventually, but at least I had done something productive in the meantime."

"Uncle Scar, you're so weird!" The boy laughed again. "Didn't your mum and dad get mad at you for doing stuff like that?"

"Oh yes," he said morosely. "But then, they were _always_ mad at me, especially Ahadi. Sometimes I think he had made up his mind to hate me from the moment I was born." He clenched his paw, his own claws digging into his skin and causing his injury to flare again. "He named me Taka, which means _Waste_ in the old tongue. Who does that? What kind of parent names one son _king_ and the other _trash?"_

"He probably didn't know that though," said Simba. "I guess they just thought it sounded cool."

"They should have _checked!_ But no, being King is all about getting people to respect you for being strong and powerful, not about learning the meaning of some words in a dusty old language nobody speaks anymore." He flexed his aching paw, trying to retract his claws and failing. "That's how I lost my powers, back then. I turned them against my brother during a fight, and the spirits never answered me again after that. He was allowed to use his strength against me, but I was not allowed to use my own."

Simba's ears drooped. "I guess you really hated him, huh?"

"No! I mean, I thought I did, but…" He gestured helplessly as he sought to explain something he did not understand himself. "Maybe I couldn't help but hate him a little, even though it mostly wasn't his fault, but that doesn't mean he deserved to die. Nobody – nobody deserves that."

"I'm sorry," Simba whispered.

"Don't say that," Scar growled. "Don't ever say that to me. You have nothing to apologize for, do you understand?" _Why do I do this? Why do I talk to someone who causes me this much pain?_

He got up and turned towards the exit. _Coming here was a mistake._

Simba said nothing, but merely placed his head back down onto the stone dais in the centre of the royal den. There was no way the boy was going to fall asleep now, after he had said all of that.

He sighed deeply, and lay down next to the boy, placing one paw over the cub's fragile body and doing his best to ignore the lionesses' stares as he resigned himself to yet another restless night.


	3. Tirthankara

**A/N:** You might have noticed that I'm blatantly mixing Buddhism with African shamanism in this chapter and in the story in general. However, I feel that I'm totes justified in this because A) I don't know anything about African shamanism and B) The movie blatantly does this too, with Rafiki taking the seiza meditation pose for example. So there!

A Tirthankara is a spiritual teacher of the correct Inner Path (Dharma), and often someone who himself has escaped Samsara by attaining Nirvanna.

* * *

"King Scar! You'll never guess who's back!"

Scar shot up, nearly tumbling from his stone dais as the growing weight of Nala jumped up against him. She was practically bouncing with excitement. "What, who? Is it Zira?" Hope and relief washed over him at the thought – the Pridelands could not survive much longer with this interminable drought.

"No silly, look!"

Scar groaned as a blue-and-red hornbill flew into the royal den, wearing a decidedly exasperated expression on his avian features. "And a jolly good morning to you too, Sire. I am relieved to see you are still composed and dignified enough to conceal your excitement, unlike _some_ lions I could mention."

"Uncle Scar!" Following right after Zazu, Simba bounded into the great hall, looking considerably larger than the mere cub who had left. "I'm back from my mission! Notice anything different about me?"

"Hm." Scar clambered off his dais and gave his nephew an exaggerated inspection. "Oh no! Don't panic, Simba, but some kind of disgusting crimson parasite appears to have attached itself to your scalp. I will need to use my claws to excise it."

Simba rolled his eyes even as he laughed – revealing a far lower tenor than the childish giggle Scar had come to know so well. "No uncle, I have a mane! That means I'm officially an adult." He shook his head to illustrate, but the few measly crimson strands failed to tumble and wave majestically around him as it would for a full-grown lion. "Hey, does this mean I get to be king now?"

"I would say you still need to grow a few more hairs," said Sarabi, who was just now rising from her spot on the dais. She smiled benevolently at her son. "How was your trip?"

"It was amazing," said Simba. "I was really great!"

Zazu idly landed on Scar's head, once again revealing a complete lack of will to live – understandable, Scar supposed, given his pitiful existence. "I would say it went about as well as could be expected, your majesty. All across the Pridelands, your subjects are suffering from thirst and malnourishment as a result of the drought. Still, the young prince's _speeches_ – if I am to insult the noble art of oration by referring to them as such – seem to have at least encouraged them to wait a while longer before vacating."

Scar nodded. If even a few species started to migrate, it would all be over: The more herbivores moved away, the more their natural predators would follow, breaking the dam that prevented the entire Pridelands from becoming a barren desert. If not for Simba – if he had actually banished the boy back then, or worse… He shook his head. It did not bear thinking about, in more ways than one.

Zazu fell off his head with a squawk, and immediately flew out of swiping range. "If I may be so bold, Sire…" He almost seemed apologetic, though that was ridiculous. "Now that I have returned–"

"I know," Scar sighed, already moving towards the cavern's only exit. "Time for the morning report."

"Hey dad – could I come with you?"

Scar turned around. "What?"

"I asked if I could come with you, uncle Scar." The adolescent shot him a wide grin. "I'm really good at speechifying now, so if I go with you I could talk to the animals here and learn more about the kind of kingly things you do each day and such."

"Ah," said Scar. "That's… I mean, if your mother approves?" Sarabi favoured him with an enigmatic smile. "Fine then, I don't see why not."

"Yes!" The two lions and the bird passed through the short tunnel leading out of the cave, and Scar blinked against the sudden light and heat. The merciless sun was blazing down on him as if to incinerate him on the spot, and the pressure in the air instantly doubled the headache which was already a constant factor in his life. _You really do want me dead, don't you, brother? But is it for doing too much, or too little?_ He almost wished his brother would just come down from the sky to roar at him as a ghost – it would be more familiar at least than this alien approach.

"All right," said Zazu, flapping next to his head in a way that added less to the breeze than it did to his headache. "It's been a while since I gave any reports, so let's see… first up are the buffalos, I think."

The three of them traversed the Pridelands under the blazing sun, and it did not take long for Simba to spot a tower of Giraffes attempting to graze from the last few yellowed leaves high up in a baobab tree. Its prodigious size had evidently allowed it to store enough water to last a while, or perhaps it was tapping into a source from further below. Something to look into later, he supposed.

Simba leaped up onto a nearby ridge, allowing him to address the giraffes at eye-height. "Hey, listen," he said. "How're you all doing? Yeah, I know, am I right? Things sure are tough right now, but listen – see my uncle Scar over there? He's the smartest animal in the Pridelands, and he's got a plan…"

Scar stared at the sight in wonder. Giraffes were barely even smart enough to understand speech, and yet Simba's words still seemed to be making them less agitated. Some even stopped trying to reach for the leaves in order to lean in closer. "I don't get it," Scar said eventually. "He's not even saying anything new, and yet it's still making a difference."

"He's giving them hope," Zazu said, interrupting his briefing to land besides him. "That's not nothing."

"When _I_ make people believe in things that will never happen, they call it lying."

Zazu gave him a savvy look. "Ah, but that's only because when _you_ do it you always look like you're plotting to strangle the person you're talking to."

Scar smiled despite himself. "Zazu, that's just with you, and I'm quite open about that." _I wish I really were plotting something: All this having to wait is maddening. There has to be something else I can do…_

Zazu soon completed his report, and the two lions continued onwards by themselves. After traveling for a while in companionable silence – aside from Scar's occasional cursing at the sun – their thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a young lion's growl.

A jolt of recognition shot through Scar as he realized just where his mindless ambling had taken them, followed by a stab of panic. _No – she wouldn't have._ There, hidden in the briar bushes, crouched amongst the last plants left near the cave's entrance except for a few blackened vines and weeds, a mangy cub sat as though preparing to pounce. It snarled at them with an animalistic fervour.

"Nuka?" He was almost afraid to wait for a reply. _I'd completely forgotten…_

Simba gave him an uncertain look. "Uncle Scar? Who's this lion? Is he from a different pride?"

It was Nuka who answered. "Get off! This is our turf. You don't belong here."

"Nuka, have you been here by yourself all this time? What have you been eating?"

"I can _hunt_ ," the cub growled, affronted. It had been living off insects and the occasional field mouse, no doubt. "Mother trusted me to keep our turf safe from intruders."

"I don't doubt it," Scar said, still trying to gather his thoughts. "Listen, Nuka, here's what you need to do. Go to Pride Rock, and try to look as wretched as you can manage." _Shouldn't be too hard, in his case._ "No doubt one of the lionesses there will fawn over you, and provide you the sustenance you need."

"Yeah," said Simba, moving closer to the cub without regards for its snarls. "I'm sure mum wouldn't mind helping you out if you just ask! Just tell her I sent you, and she'll–"

"I don't need your stinkin' handouts!" The cub shot Simba a glare full of resentment, and Scar instantly did a double-take. He gaped at the sight, which seemed so nostalgic as to be painful: The larger and healthier Simba looking down at the smaller and uglier cub with such pity, and the shabby younger cub staring back with so much bitterness and hate.

 _No… no, I reject that comparison. This is not my fault. These are not my cubs…_

He stepped closer, moving slowly so as not to startle the boy. "Nuka…" What was he to say? Everything his own father had told him had only ever made things worse. What was it that he would have wanted Ahadi to say to him, all those years ago? "Listen to me," he said, an idea forming in his head. "Your loyalty to your mother is admirable, but it's wasted on her, I think."

"Why do you care?" The cub glared at him, suspiciously. "It's not like you're really my dad, or anything."

"Right, I'm not," said Scar. "So there's no point in you trying to be like me or Simba. The fact of the matter is that I'm the king and Simba is the crown prince, and you're neither of those things, so you should probably put any thoughts of being like either of us out of your head right now."

Simba gaped at him, horrified. "Uncle Scar!"

"See?" said Scar. "He even is _nicer_ than you. Sure, it's possible that you'll develop some incredible talent like being spiritually attuned that'll allow you to compete with him, but I wouldn't count on it." He stroked his mane, trying to put his thoughts together. The cub seemed too bewildered to growl at them anymore, so that was an improvement at least. "Look, my point is, comparing yourself to other people is only ever going to make you unhappy, so you should just focus on your own development instead."

"That's not true," the cub protested. "I could totally be like you! You know – if I wanted to."

Scar shook his head as he regarded the stubborn look in the boy's eyes, trying vainly to determine what he should do with the lad. _Zira… what on earth were you thinking?_

* * *

Zira was thinking about pouncing. It was a difficult habit to break: After spending her whole life as a huntress under queen Sarabi, the smallest movement in the grass was enough to set off her instincts and get her ready to leap to the attack. This target, however, could in no way be described as 'small'.

"… _it's our problem free ~ philosophy…"_

At last Zira's hindbrain ran out of patience, and she felt herself leap out of the undergrowth to land in front of the dancing pig and rat, causing the two of them to yelp and duck for cover. "Okay," she growled, "what the hell is this supposed to be?"

"Oh geez it's a lion!" The striped rat jumped on top of the pig's head and grabbed its ears. "Run, Pumbaa: Fly like your wind!"

"Wait Timon, I don't think she's gonna eat us." The pig bowed awkwardly towards Zira, and motioned to the great tree and the gushing waterfalls behind him. "The name's Pumbaa, and this is Timon: We are the protectors of Hakuna Matata falls."

"Hakuna mawhatnow?"

"Hakuna Matata," said the striped rat, clambering off his pig when it became clear she was not about to attack. "It's our motto: It means we don't give a shit."

"Timon," the pig said doubtfully, "I thought it was an ancient mystical philosophy about letting go off your earthly worries in order to attain enlightenment."

"Pumbaa, Pumbaa, Pumbaa," the rat chuckled, as it reached up to pat the pig on the shoulder. "I don't give a shit."

None of this was doing much to calm Zira's hindbrain, which insisted that these overly talkative walking steaks were in need of a good pouncing. "I am looking for the royal mjuzi, Rafiki. Is he here or not?"

"Ohoho, indeed he is!" From out of a gap between the roots of the great tree an old bearded monkey hopped forward, leaning on a staff in a way that clearly indicated he had no need of it. "Well, well, well, a visitor for old Rafiki? What gives such a noble lady cause to come all the way over from Pride Rock?"

Zira suppressed a glower – she had the distinct impression that she was being mocked. "Honoured mjuzi," she recited, "the crown Prince has been suffering from strange dreams full of portent and veiled meaning. The royal family begs you to return to the Pridelands to offer your spiritual guidance."

"Oho, has he indeed? You had better come inside then, so we can discuss." The monkey beckoned her with his long arms, and before she could say anything he had slipped back inside.

Grunting, Zira squeezed through the narrow opening between the roots and found herself inside of a tall open space filled with tribal artefacts – the tree was completely hollow, as it turned out. There were countless baubles, wooden tokens and dried fruits dangling from long strings attached to the roof, which clattered against each other as she brushed past. The walls of the tree were filled with incomprehensible scribbling and mural paintings picked out in shades of red.

She was just glancing towards a crude representation of a pride of small lions when a hand grabbed her by the neck and pressed her face against it. "Come, come, look closer! Tell me, what do you see?"

She drew back with a grunt, and blinked to clear her vision. When she opened her eyes again, she saw to her amazement that the shapes were _moving_. "It's – they're lion cubs," she whispered. "Their little paws are wriggling. They… they need their mother." She blinked again, and the painting was still once more.

"Ohoho! You can see quite clearly already, for one so recently introduced to _Hakuna Matata_." She stared at the monkey, who was grinning at her. The blue markings on his cheeks lent him a decidedly mischievous air. "This is the art of spirit-sight, of _Darśana_. It allows you to see the past and the present, but never the future."

"Oh man, I _love_ this place," said Timon, who had followed her inside. He held his nose above one of the pots on the ground and wafted the air upwards with both hands, inhaling deeply. "Just the smell of these paints… _hmm-hmm_. This is great. Life is great. Everything's _great."_

"Uh, Timon?" There was a loud grunting sound behind her. "I think I'm stuck again."

"Not a problem, good buddy! Let me just giva ya a little push. Hang in there…"

Zira stared at the sight, the sheer absurdity of it finally managing to overpower her more aggressive instincts. "So… why can't it show the future?"

"Why, because it has not happened yet!" The monkey guffawed, and the dried fruits that dangled from his staff rattled and shook along with his laughter. "What a foolish question!" He searched around on the floor, and picked out a small pot which he shoved in Zira's face. "Here. These iboga leaves should help the young prince with his troubled dreams. Tell him to inhale their vapours each evening before rest, and to meditate upon the infinite: That should help him make sense of his visions."

"You can tell him yourself," Zira said, shoving the pot away. "We need your help at Pride Rock."

"Oh no, not possible." The monkey shook his head. "I need to stay and offer guidance to the animals of this land, and teach them _Hakuna Matata_. Trust me: Inhale vapours, meditate on infinite. There is no more I can do – enlightenment must come from within."

"There are other problems afflicting the kingdom," Zira growled. "There is a drought which is killing all the plants and animals in the Pridelands." There was no telling how bad it had gotten, in the time since she went away.

"A drought," Rafiki repeated, stroking his beard. "Very troubling. What does this have to with spirits, exactly?"

Zira cursed – she _knew_ there had been a reason why Scar told her to use the nightmares story instead. "Some animals are saying the Kings of the Past abandoned us because they take issue with King Scar's… unique leadership style. We need you to conduct the traditional ritual ceremony for our new king to put their minds at ease."

"Scar." Rafiki's brow furrowed. "He is the one who sent you, yes?"

"I didn't say that." She could already hear Scar chastising her for failing to bring Rafiki back. But no, that could not be allowed to happen. "I came here out of love for my kingdom."

"Ah, love, is it?" The monkey crossed his arms and nodded sagely. "To feel such strong love is admirable indeed, but it can also be blinding. Admiration is the emotion furthest from understanding, as they say."

She glowered at him. Her urge to pounce was back at full strength, but the thought of failure bade her restraint. "What do you have against Scar, anyway?" Sometimes it seemed like everyone hated him, except her.

"What do I have against him? What do I have against him?" The monkey leaped towards her, his face livid with fury, and she jumped back on sheer instinct. _"He stole my stick!"_

She blinked. "He… what?"

"My bakora stick! That ruffian, in his mad thirst for power, sought not just to wield the power of the spirits but command them. And to do so, he stole my almighty stick!"

Zira stared at the staff Rafiki was shaking at her, the dried fruits rattling against the wood as he waved it around. "But… if he stole your staff, then what are you holding right now?"

"Oh," said the monkey, staring at his staff as if seeing it for the first time. "Well, I found a new one the next day. Very lucky! Normally, bakora staff is holy artefact which is found only once per lifetime."

Zira pinched her eyes closed. The paint fumes in the room were giving her a headache, and she was starting to develop severe doubts concerning this shaman's abilities. Possibly the two were related. "Look," she said, suppressing her murderous urges as well as she could manage, "I'm sure his majesty is very sorry for borrowing your staff. But the kingdom really does need you."

"Indeed." The monkey started pacing around, stooping so low that his beard almost touched the ground as he walked. "The king dies, the crown prince has troubled dreams involving spirits, a drought strikes the kingdom and now Scar sends you here in secret. It does indeed sound like I am needed!"

"So you'll come?" she asked, feeling faint relief. "You'll return to the Pridelands?"

"Oh yes," he said. He took a deep breath, and a fierce determination settled in his eyes. "It is time."

There was a large crashing sound behind her as the pig broke apart the entrance with a squeal, and both he and the rat rolled into the room with a loud clamour. The monkey cursed at them, screaming and waving his staff as he chased them around the place. Zira was not sure why, but even though her mission had been accomplished, she could not shake the feeling that Scar would not be pleased.


	4. Mṛtyu

**A/N** : Mṛtyu is Sanskrit for death. One of the things I like about Buddhism is that it actually considers death and suffering to be bad things which must be fought and ultimately defeated, instead of just complacently accepting them. Well, kinda. Nirvana literally means "blown out", which could be taken to mean the death of the soul. You have to wonder how bleak someone's worldview would have be, however, to think that the ultimate goal of life is to escape suffering by finding a way to permanently die…

* * *

Scar walked up the entryway to Pride Rock, as had become his evening ritual. It was still twilight, for he had finished his daily tasks sooner than expected. Nevertheless a sense of weariness overcame him, when he entered and found the great cave to be empty save for Sarabi, who was lying alone on the royal dais.

"Sarabi, where is your hunting party? And where are the children?"

"Simba is outside spending time with Nala, and I asked the huntresses to keep an eye on Nuka." Sarabi gave him a playful smile. "He reminds me a little of someone else, when he was younger."

"He's not my son." Scar crouched down at the edge of the bier and sighed heavily. "I don't know what else I can do, Sarabi. Our subjects are at the end of their patience. If Zira does not return quickly…"

"She will." Scar marvelled at the iron certainty in her voice – he had no idea how she managed that, or even if it was faked or real. "Zira is the fiercest huntress in my unit. You did well to choose her."

"Did I? For all I know she might have forgotten the entire reason I sent her, and is only just now spitting the old monkey out in realization." This earned him a dry chuckle. "Sarabi… do you think it's true what they say? That the Kings of the Past inflicted this drought upon us?"

Sarabi slinked closer. "Scar, I know you and Mufasa did not always get along, but if he looked down at us now he could do nothing but smile. You have done better as a king and as a parent than either one of us would ever have expected. If the Kings of the Past take issue with your leadership, then they are a pack of fools." She butted her head against his chest, and purred softly.

Scar recoiled in horror, realization finally setting in. "Sarabi, no. We can't."

"And why should we not?" Her smile was more fearsome than her iron features had ever been. "You have _done well,_ your majesty. I do believe you deserve a reward."

"No," he said, mindless panic overtaking him. "If Zira comes back–"

She snorted. "I've known Zira since she was a cub. She won't mind."

"Mufasa could be looking down on us _right now."_

"Then he'll know to look away." She placed her paws upon his shoulders and pressed downwards.

He leapt away without any conscious decision being made. He ran away from the dais, through the tunnel and out of the cave, down the entryway and under the open night sky. He did not slow down until he was in the wide open savannah, with nothing but withered yellow grass stretching out all around him, and no sound but for his own footsteps and the crickets that chirped in the distance.

 _What am I doing? After all this time, what am I doing? Is all my life a lie?_

He kept going, aimlessly, not knowing where to go. The dying grass crunched beneath his paws as he walked. At last he came across a dazzle of zebras, some sleeping upright while others were lying down next to an empty pit that had once been a pool of water. They did not seem to notice him as he snuck up, and the closest one only startled awake when he was close enough to touch.

"King Scar." The zebra stared at him blankly, the dullness of its expression apparent even in the low light of the stars above. It carried a strange, unhealthy smell. "What're you doing here?"

Scar stared at the animal with morbid curiosity. "Why are you still here? You know there is no more water, right?"

The zebra looked down at the empty pit. "Prince Simba told us to stay here."

"Yes, but we need you here because we want to _eat_ you," Scar said, unable to help himself. "You know that, don't you? So why _are_ you staying here?"

The zebra reached down and pulled some of the grass from the ground, chewing it along with the clump of dirt that was still attached. "Prince Simba told us to stay. We stay."

"It's no good, Sire." The voice that came from behind Scar was recognisable as belonging to Zazu, though there was a strange hollow quality to it. "I did tell you, didn't I? Herbivore intelligence is simply not up to snuff compared to the rest of us. No species can attain full sentience on a diet of grass alone."

"Zazu." The bird was perched on a withered tree which Scar had failed to notice in the moonlight, so blackened was its bark. Against the backdrop of stars, Zazu was little more than a silhouette himself, and if Scar did not know better he would have guessed him to be a pied crow or a raven. "I always thought…" He sighed. "All my life, I imagined what I would do differently if I were king. But now that it finally happened, all I find myself doing is to try and be more like my older brother."

Zazu turned his crooked beak sideways, and regarded Scar from his perch with a single gleaming eye. "Sire, the duty of a king is not to change things, but rather to ensure that everything remains the same. Think of it this way: The captain of the Lion Guard is always the King's second son – you, in this instance. But why should that be the case? Would it not be more sensible to pick the most competent leader amongst those available?"

"Good question," said Scar. Of course, he had never raised the issue while _he_ was the leader.

"It's simple," said Zazu. "What matters is not competence, but consistency. There really isn't much skill involved in telling your lions to group up and charge the enemy – meaning no offense, Your Majesty. Frankly, we wouldn't expect to lose any straight-up fight regardless. But what if there were infighting or the line of command were called into question? The entire group could dissolve, as is indeed what ultimately happened. That is why it is better to point to someone and say: _'The son of that man rules, and will always rule'_ , for having a poor leader is better than having no leader at all."

Scar stared at the dark silhouette, feeling faintly like he did not know this creature and was now meeting him for the first time. "You really don't believe in anything, do you, Zazu?"

"I believe in the attainable, Sire. Take your scheme to offer everyone in the Pridelands immortality, for example: That was a foolish thing to say, for it contradicted everything the Kings of the Past told us to justify their rule. Yet your solution, to only offer it to your greatest and most loyal servants, now _that_ was an excellent way to promote the idea that even the most humble figure in the Pridelands could one day earn eternal bliss. That idea brought _hope_ , and hope is what brings us happiness." There was a brief pause in which Scar was sure he saw Zazu smirk. "And dare I say it, Sire? When you told me that I could survive my own death and live with you amongst the stars – for one brief moment, it made me smile."

Scar stared at him in fascinated horror: He did not know how or why, but in that moment Zazu frightened him more than any predator ever could. He ducked low as the bird swooped down from its perch to land atop one of the zebras lying in the grass.

"Just imagine it, Sire: If I had never met your family, I might be dying right now, my bloated body lying in the middle of the savannah as some bird of prey pries at my open innards. But I begged your brother to be allowed to serve him, and now here I am. And in the end, isn't that the best any of us can hope for in life? Dying last?" He reached down and picked at the zebra with his beak, and pulled out what looked like a worm. "Are you sure you're not hungry, Sire? It's still fresh."

Scar stared for a moment, and then he screamed and ran.

* * *

"Now, you wouldn't be luring us into some kind of trap, would you, Scar?" The hyena matriarch eyed him with suspicion, while the two others glanced furtively around for any sign that they had been spotted.

"I assure you, Shenzi, you are the last on anyone's list of priorities right now." Even so he would never have risked taking hyenas all the way to Pride Rock, but he could not afford to wait for Zira any longer. He searched briefly along the cliff face, and then brushed aside the vines that obscured the entrance.

"Oh wow, a secret passage," Banzai said, snickering. "You lions really are fancy." Ed merely giggled.

"This is the old lair of the Lion Guard, from back when we still operated," Scar explained, as he led the way through the narrow opening. The passage led down into a great cave system, illuminated by a single beam of light that shone down through a hole in the ceiling. "It should have what we need."

"The Lion Guard!" Shenzi burst into a sudden fit of laughter. "You took hyenas to the secret lair of the Lion Guard – oh, your old dead kings would blow a lit if they knew!" A mischievous expression gleamed in her black eyes, and she elbowed him in the side. "Hey Scar, do you think you could make us all honorary members? Just to drive the point home?"

Scar gave her a look of vague annoyance. "We're not here for your amusement, Shenzi."

"Sure, we didn't come here for the jokes," Banzai chortled, "but I'd be _lion_ if I said I didn't enjoy them!"

The three hyenas collapsed into a fit of hysterical laughter, rolling on the floor and flailing their limbs as they cackled. Scar eyed them with mild distaste. Shenzi and Banzai were undoubtedly the smartest of the hyenas that lived in the elephant graveyard, which was perhaps a greater indictment of their species than even Zazu would dare utter. Once, roving bands of hyenas had terrorised the Pridelands, back in Ahadi's day. Seeing them now, he imagined Simba could have savaged them all with a single bad joke.

Shenzi was the first to get up again, wiping her eyes with the back of her paws. "Hee hee. Don'tcha worry Scar, I get enough jollies from the fact that we're officially lion kings now. Hah! I can't wait to see the look on yer old man's face when I come to say hello in the afterlife. Teach him a thing or two about how _inferior_ we really are."

Banzai waved his paw dismissively. "Bah, revenge in the afterlife sounds great and all, but I'm feeling hungry _now_. Where's that mountain of food you promised us, Scar?"

"Oh yeah," said Shenzi, "we wouldn't be forgetting who helped you cause that little accident back at the ravine, now would we, uncle Scar?"

"I assure you, if this works out the way I planned, you can take as much from the pantry as you can carry." It was not as if he was feeling hungry, anyway. He was not sure he would ever feel hungry again.

As the four of them descended ever further into the cavern's tunnels, Banzai's eyes fell upon the mural paintings that lined the walls. "Hey, what's these then? You a painter, Scar?"

"These images were made by the mjuzi of the past," Scar explained, though he did not know why he bothered. "They detail the long history of our species. I used to come down here all the time as a cub, when I couldn't sleep, or when I was not wanted. Sometimes I would just stare at them for hours, trying to make them move with my mind as the mjuzi could, but I never managed."

"Hah, talk about your strange hobbies." Shenzi laughed, slapping him on the shoulder. "Ahh, you're alright, Scar. You're alright."

As they went further down the air became cooler and cooler, until finally the tunnel opened up into a large cavern, revealing a small glistening lake in the centre.

"A pool!" Banzai jumped up, outraged. "The Pridelands are dying of thirst, and they have a pool down here. I can't believe these lions!" He scuttled over to the edge, and made to dip in his legs. "Oh well, be a shame not to make use of – ahh, this water is freezing!"

"Indeed it is," said Scar. "Peculiar phenomenon, isn't it? The currents are different down here, I think. I remembered this place while thinking of anything that could help me make sense of the spirit world, and I recalled something Rafiki once said – something about cold water, and its effects on the mind." It was remarkable, what an appropriate sense of urgency could do for one's power of recollection.

The only question was: Would it be cold _enough?_

"Alright," Shenzi said, "work with me here, Scar. How is a pool of water, no matter how cold, gonna help us find out more about the spirit world? And uh, why should we care, exactly?"

" _Think_ , Shenzi." Scar sighed. He knew the hyena matriarch was not stupid, but getting other animals to actually use their brain had always proved a near-impossible task for him. "You and I have a spot in the afterlife now – fantastic! But we still don't know if it really works that way, or even if it _does_ we still don't know what the afterlife will look like. What if Mufasa and the others really are gods up in the stars, while you have no power there? What then? What happens to your revenge then, Shenzi?"

He noted to his satisfaction that she gulped nervously – her sense of imagination was adequate then, at least, though he doubted she could think of anything as horrific as _he_ could.

"Treat it like you would any other war," Scar continued, "and the next step becomes obvious. If the battlefield is unknown, then you should send out a scout."

"A scout!" Banzai lapsed into a fit of laughter. "Someone to scout the afterlife! How're you gonna manage that, Scar? You'd need to kill someone, and then you'd need to, somehow…" He looked at Scar and Shenzi, then at the lake, and paled. "Wait, no. I don't know what you're planning, but no."

"Freezing water cools the brain until it doesn't work anymore," Scar explained. "Then when you die of the cold, it preserves your functions, so that when you're pulled out again you're alive once more." Or that was how Rafiki had explained it, anyway: The actual story had involved a frozen lake a thousand miles south of here, and a mythical figure that might never even have existed.

"Why does it have to be _me?_ Why not… why not Ed?"

The three of them turned to regard the last member of their team, who stared blankly ahead, his tongue hanging out as he giggled softly to himself. _"Eheheheh… eheheheheh… heh."_

Ed always gave Scar the creeps. He was pretty sure Shenzi only lugged the mute idiot around because he was her halfwit brother or something. He had never cared enough to ask.

Banzai looked pleadingly at Shenzi, but the fear that Scar's words had imprinted was still plainly written on her face. She gestured towards the pool, and Banzai whimpered and headed there.

"Good. Now Shenzi, I will need your help holding him down." Before Banzai could protest, Scar grabbed his neck and forced him under with a splash. Gosh, that water really _was_ cold on the paws.

Besides him, Shenzi was doing her part in holding him under, apparently with equal distaste for the cold based on her expression. "How long are we supposed to hold him under for?"

"I don't know," said Scar. "It's not as if I've done this before. Come to think of it, I think we might be supposed to let him breathe during the process. It rather defeats the point of the exercise if he drowns."

Based on unspoken consensus they raised his head above the surface, and then when they saw no more signs of struggle, pulled his body out of the water. "Okay," said Shenzi. "Now what do we do?"

"Get him to start breathing again," said Scar. "Don't you hyenas know anything of medicine?"

Growling, Shenzi set to work pumping the water out of his lungs, and after a few tense moments, Scar was relieved to see Banzai's chest moving up and down again. His entire body was wet and shivering, and his teeth clattered with an awful sound, but he was alive.

Shenzi carefully pushed him to an upright position, looking more worried than ever before. "Banzai? Did you make it to the spirit world? What did you see?"

Slowly, his eyes opened – but when they did they stared out at nothing. His tongue lulled from his mouth as he panted. Then, he started laughing, his chortles echoing against the walls and filling the entire cavern with the sound of his giggling. _"Eheheheheh… eheheheheh…. eheheheheheh….."_

* * *

The next day, Scar received word that Zira had been found.


	5. Karma

**A/N:** Everyone has heard of the philosophical concept of Karma, of course. It's the idea that good actions are rewarded and bad actions punished either later in your life, or through reincarnation into the next life. Take the spirituality out of it, however, and you're left with the important insight that acting like a jerk will often make your life really miserable, even if you seem to be winning on paper.

 _Now as a man is like this or like that,  
according as he acts and according as he behaves, so will he be;  
a man of good acts will become good, a man of bad acts, bad;  
he becomes pure by pure deeds, bad by bad deeds;  
_  
 _And here they say that a person consists of desires,  
and as is his desire, so is his will;  
and as is his will, so is his deed;  
and whatever deed he does, that he will reap._

* * *

"Just Zira? Are you sure?"

"I couldn't make out the details from that distance," Zazu said, still catching his breath. "Since you told me to return immediately should there be any sight of her. But there was no one else on that rock, Sire."

Scar growled, pacing around in front of the Royal Den as though preparing himself for a hunt. He could not risk letting anyone else talk to Rafiki if the mjuzi was there after all – that was the problem. "I'll go check it out myself," he said, as he had known he would. "You and Sarabi hold Pride Rock until I return."

"Of course, Sire." Scar barely heard the voice as it faded behind him – he was already going.

He bounded off in the direction of the Outlands, moving with uncharacteristic haste – something was wrong, he could feel it in his bones. _Zira would never return before the mission was completed; she would not dare disappoint me, not in a million years!_ If she had chosen to come back regardless, then the implications were even more worrying: _Did something happen to Rafiki? Is he dead? Was there an attack? A new crisis of which she had to come warn me?_

At last Scar arrived at the base of Flatridge Rock, and he almost sagged through his legs in relief at the sight. He did not dare pause however, scrambling up the smooth stone even as his trembling muscles almost caused him to trip and fall again. Lying on top was Zira's body, sleeping or perhaps – _no!_

He nudged her with his snout, and breathed faint relief when she stirred and met his eyes. "…Scar?"

"Zira, what happened?" He already knew; there were no other explanations possible, at this point.

"He hit me, from behind, with his stick… I thought – I'm sorry, Scar. I failed…"

He cursed and leaped off the rock, trusting Zira to follow him. If Rafiki had attacked her, then there was only one possible cause of action for him to take next. _Why did I decide to come here? I am such a fool!_

He ran all the way back to Pride Rock, ignoring his aching muscles and the acid that pumped ever faster through his veins. Distantly, he was aware of another set of footfalls slowly catching up to him.

He reached the top of the entryway with a single bounding leap, only to find Sarabi jumping back in surprise at the sight of him. "Scar! I see you found Zira, thank goodness. Did you send that bizarre pig and rat here as well? You know how I feel about having lesser animals encroach on Pride Rock."

"Pig? Rat?" Scar turned to face Zira in a panic, and the look of realization in her eyes was all the confirmation he needed. "Where's Simba? Sarabi, tell me you know where Simba is!"

Her eyes widened in surprise, then fear. "He's outside playing with Nala, right over… there…"

Scar was already moving again, leaping to the grassy knoll where Nala still stood, wide-eyed and alone. "Where is he? Where did they go?"

"I don't…" Nala stared at him with the look of someone who was only just now realizing that something was terribly wrong. "The old monkey said he was going to take Simba to see his past. King Scar, what's going on? Who _was_ that?"

"Nala, where did they _go?"_

Nala pointed a frightened paw in the direction of the withered forest, and Scar was moving again, Zira falling in beside him and looking just as horrified. As a huntress she was faster than him by far, but there was no benefit to speed if they did not know _where_ they were going.

 _Why did Rafiki not tell them the truth immediately? Why the secrecy? Does he not know? But then why would he act against me at all? That implies he only suspects, and now he needs Simba to find proof..._

"Water," he panted to Zira, willing her to understand. "Where is water?"

There was a thoughtful frown on her face for a second. "There's the old swamp, close to here – it's not safe for drinking, so there should still be some left."

Scar nodded, and they both headed in the direction she indicated. _Please let me be in time to stop him,_ he prayed – but of course, all the spirits who could hear him would wish for him to fail.

If the monkey had told the boy the truth, Scar would rip him to shreds – but as for Simba… he could not finish that thought. He could not imagine what he would do, in that case.

 _Where did everything go so wrong? Were all my plans doomed right from the moment I decided to let Simba live? Or perhaps it was when I killed Mufasa – or even when I angered the spirits long before that?_

Withered trees passed them by on either side as they leaped over rocks and fallen logs, until at last they arrived on top of a small outcrop overlooking a murky pond. It had almost dried up, but in the centre some water still remained. Two figures were crouched amongst the desiccated river rushes: An old mandrill with blue facial markings and a staff from which red fruits dangled, and beside him an adolescent lion, a few strands of red hair falling over his face as he leaned over to peer into the pool.

"Simba! Get away from there!" The lion looked up in shock at the mention of his name, while the mandrill merely glared at Scar. Scar tried to say something else, but his voice was overpowered by a great roar from above. When he looked up he saw that the weather had changed: Dark clouds were roiling and twisting together like a maelstrom in the sky, and flashes of light heralded the coming of lightning. Simba looked up at the strange clouds in horror, and ran.

Scar and Zira leaped down to follow, but Rafiki stepped in to bar their way, his staff raised in challenge. A warthog and a meerkat appeared from the river rushes on either side of him, the former looking decidedly more intimidating than the latter.

"Rafiki," Scar growled, "if you've hurt Simba…"

"Ooh, concerned for your favourite nephew, are you?" The mandrill leaned on his staff and stooped over, as if to try and get his face as close to Scar's as possible. "The brave king defends his family against the hostile intruder, fighting side-by-side with his loving queen. What a pity it is all a lie!"

"I'll handle the pig and the monkey," Zira said with a snarl. Her claws were already digging into the dirt, even as the meerkat mounted his steed for a charge. "You go after Simba."

"Right," said Scar. "I will come back to help you against Rafiki as soon as I can."

"Nope," said Rafiki, "wrong again!" He waved his staff at Scar, and then the sky came _hurling_ down on him. Crushing winds grabbed hold of him and tossed him around like a mere plaything of the gods, and smashed him against the rocky outcrop from which he had come. He looked up, dazed, trying to find his direction amongst the withered plants that surrounded him, when he realized that the sky really was _howling_ at him: Through an empty patch amongst the clouds the constellation of the Lion shone brightly, and it was from there that the cold wind blew.

 _Mufasa…_

He scrambled back on his feet, ducking his head low to limit the wind's purchase, and scurried through the river rushes as best he could. He could already hear the mandrill landing at the spot he had just left, but he counted on the darkness and the withered plants to obscure his black mane from sight.

After moving but a few feet he heard a bloodthirsty roar behind him, and he chanced a glance backwards: Rafiki was desperately holding off a pouncing Zira, jamming the length of his staff between her jaws to stave off her bite. The meerkat and warthog joined the fray with a furious charge, and then Zira was fighting all three of them at once – and _winning_. She roared victoriously as she smashed aside the meerkat with a single swipe, and bit into the warthog's flank with a bloody fury. Then Rafiki raised his staff once more, and the whole scene became a blur of wind and devastation.

Scar rushed onwards, taking advantage of the commotion to pick up the pace. Soon he came upon a wide open clearing which had once been a rich sea of grass. Now there was nothing but a grey carpet as far as the eye could see, and the prince of the Pridelands was running through it in a blind panic.

"Simba!" He called out again and again, but the boy only seemed to become more agitated at the mention of his name. He jumped from one place to the next, all the while staring up at the roiling sky and shouting at the clouds with a fear and desperation that cut straight to Scar's heart.

"It's not true!" The boy shouted at the clouds, which only a moment ago Scar could have sworn resembled Mufasa's face, but which were now moving apart and dissipating. "It's not true…"

Scar crept closer, his sense of dread rising with each step he took, yet forcing himself onward. "Simba."

The boy twisted around and faced Scar with a look of… hate? No, horror? "Uncle Scar." The red strands of hair that fell over his eyes made him look like a drowned cat, and just as miserable. "It was my father. It was him, I swear! He was… he was up there, in the clouds, just like you said he would be."

Scar stared at the boy, not daring to speak. He supposed he could have tried to convince the lad he was delusional, but… "What did he say? Did he – did he mention me, at all?"

"I forgot to ask." Simba looked wretched with _guilt_ , which made no sense. "He… he said I'd turned my back on him. That I'd _forgotten_ him." He hung his head even lower. "He sounded so disappointed…"

There was a fury rising inside Scar, the kind he had not felt since Mufasa's death, though this was somehow stronger still. "Simba, I've known my brother all my life. The Mufasa I knew would _never_ have said that to you, not in a million years. I don't know what glamour that shaman cast, or what it is he told you back there, but I can tell you for a fact that if Mufasa looked down on you now, he could do nothing but smile with pride in his heart at the lion that you've become."

He drew Simba closer, and placed a paw over him as he had done so many times before, though he could no longer cover the whole of him with just one arm. Still, even as his rage subsided, the fear which churned in his stomach redoubled to make up for it: For if Mufasa really was gone and Simba had only been speaking to his own reflection, then Zazu was right and there was nothing to hope for in life but hope itself.

* * *

As the two of them ran back to the swamp, Scar's full fatigue finally made itself known, and he scarcely managed the energy to feel renewed panic when he found Zira waiting by herself upon their return.

"They got away from me," she said, with the tone of someone who knew exactly how badly she had messed up. "They're heading back to Pride Rock, I think." She eyed Simba apprehensively. "Did he…"

"He's fine," Scar said shortly. "We need to go back, before – before Rafiki reaches the others."

Simba looked at them with dawning horror. "Aunt Zira? What's going on? The monkey said he was my dad's friend – was he lying?" He shuffled awkwardly on the spot. "Am I in some kind of trouble?"

"No," said Scar. "You're not. Just – just go on ahead, will you? I need to… I need to catch my breath."

As the boy anxiously scouted ahead through the withered forest, Zira fell in next to Scar, tail hanging low. "Scar, I'm sorry. I told Rafiki about the drought starting right after Mufasa's death – I think he figured out something was wrong from that. I didn't realize how it would look from his perspective."

Scar groaned. "Damn it Zira, we discussed this! That's why I told you to use the nightmare story instead." He shook his head, feeling too tired to muster any real anger. "Never mind. I should have known better than to trust anyone else with a task like this."

She stared at him in silence for a moment, but then her features twisted to anger. "What was I supposed to do? Your stupid story didn't work! What kind of plan was that supposed to be, anyway? You find the one person who could foil your plans, and you decide to invite him over for dinner? _Oh, and don't forget to be polite to him Zira!_ We wouldn't want our strongest enemy to feel uncomfortable or anything!"

"Alright," Scar growled, "that's enough. You've made your point."

"Ooh, look at me, _I'm Scar!_ I'm the smartest animal in the Pride Lands, don't you know. Hey, I have a great idea – how about I let my brother's heir live so he can challenge my claim to the throne later, and then I cosy up with all the lionesses who are still loyal to him? But wait, first let's send the only person who actually cares about me away so she can go fetch me another enemy who can talk with the dead." She gave him a look of withering contempt. "You should've just let me pounce when I said so."

"You're right," Scar snapped, "I should've just used violence to solve all of my problems. I don't know what I was thinking! I should've just hired an army of hyenas and taken over by force. Then I could have killed anyone who might stand in my way – including you of course, since you might betray me later for all I know – and turned the entire Pridelands into a desolate graveyard. Then I could have ruled all alone in a kingdom of the dead, just like I always wanted!"

She turned her head away in disgust, and the three of them continued onward in bitter silence. As Simba moved ever further ahead of them, Scar's sense of panic once again resurged, and he hurried to catch up. Deep down, however, he already knew that they would never make it in time to stop Rafiki from starting what was surely coming next.

By the time they arrived at the entryway, the lionesses had already assembled.


	6. Satya

**A/N:** Satya is Sanskrit for truth. Everybody says that truth is important of course, though they sure don't act like it. There's several reasons for why truth matters: First of all, it makes you trustworthy. You might be tempted to think you can get away with a lie, but habitual liars usually end up in a bad way. Successful leaders tend to build a reputation for honesty.

But there's a second reason which is often overlooked: Facts are what you use to build your model of reality. Even if you don't realize it, everything you say and do affects how you look at the world. If you just say what feels right without thinking, then without ever noticing it, you'll adjust your understanding of reality to fit with what you want to be true. As a famous Japanese character put it:

 _"If you don't watch your mouth, your mind will also become weak."_

– Namikaze Minato

Though, instead of quoting fictional characters, I suppose I'd be better off quoting the man himself:

 _"When you are studying any matter, ask yourself only what are the facts, and what is the truth that the facts bear out. To do otherwise, is to embrace madness."_

– Bertrand Russell.

Although, that's a bit of a misquote: He actually went on to say that "morality requires us to put up with the fact that some people say things that we don't like," and that we "must learn a kind of charity and tolerance which, if we are to live together and not die together, is absolutely vital to the continuation of human life on this planet." But I'm sure all that stuff wasn't important.

* * *

Scar knew that they were too late the moment he saw the look on Sarabi's face. She was waiting at the top of the entryway with an expression of purest worry.

She strode down to meet them halfway, nuzzling Simba's head with her own. "Simba, thank goodness you're all right." Her eyes rose to meet Scar's, and already he could see the doubt that had taken hold there. "The royal mjuzi has returned. Scar, he is saying all these dreadful things about you…"

"I can only imagine." There was a sick churning in his gut, and it was unlikely to get better any time soon. "Don't worry Sarabi; I will have matters cleared up soon enough." He turned around. "Zira?"

His companion nodded mutely, which was all the reassurance he was like to get. He gave her a grateful nod back, and together the group marched through the tunnel and into the royal den. The lionesses were all arranged in a circle around the king's dais – Rafiki was standing on top of the bier as he orated, with no sign of challenge to this blatant violation of custom, which was already a bad sign. The warthog and the meerkat stood at attention, guarding his flanks.

"…and have none of you ever wondered, why this strange and mysterious drought should strike so soon after poor Mufasa's untimely demise? The spirit kings take issue with Scar's leadership, you say! Ah, but what if cynicism has blinded you from seeing that it is so much worse than that?" They all turned their heads as Scar's group entered the room. "Oho, speak of the Asura and you shall surely tread upon its spindly tail! Has the wayward spirit come to defend himself from his past misdeeds?"

"Rafiki," Scar said, in as regal a tone as he could manage. _What I wouldn't give for Mufasa's booming voice right now: I'd have him scurrying back to the jungle with a single roar._ "What's the meaning of this theatre? Sarabi told me you've been spinning ugly tales about me to my subjects behind my back."

The mandrill's eyes lit up, and he waved his staff at Scar dramatically. "Ooh, only as ugly as your black heart, your majesty. Don't you know that the past always comes back to take its sweet revenge?"

"If you have something to say to me, Rafiki, I suggest you spit it out before you choke on it."

There was a gleam in the old monkey's eyes that doubled Scar's apprehension. "Oho, as impatient as you were as a young cub, I see. No, you have not changed, my noble king Scar." He turned to his audience. They were listening with a mixture of fascination and disbelief at the sheer brazenness of Rafiki's display – this had to be the most excitement they had seen in ages. "Let me ask all of you fine folks then, if this thought has ever occurred to you before: All his life, little Scar is at the throat of good king Mufasa. He wants to be king – so full of bright ideas he is of how the Pridelands ought to be run. They fight, and Scar is punished by the spirits. Then, as if struck by thunder, the good king dies, and his son crowns Scar king! An amazing turn of events, is it not? One might even call it… incredible."

"Mufasa died in a tragic accident," Scar said. This would have been the time to go on the offensive rather than let Rafiki play his game, but a sense of weariness had overtaken him after the day's events, and he resigned himself to letting it play out. "There was a stampede of Widebeests down at the gorge. He risked his life to save poor Simba, but though he managed to save his son he lost his own life."

"It's true," Simba whispered, though a tremor in his voice gave the lie to his statement. _He suspects me too, then._ Somehow, that thought hurt him so much more than any fear of being found guilty. "I saw it myself. His death wasn't the fault of – nobody would ever _mean_ for something like that to happen."

"Oh my poor boy," Rafiki said. He stepped of the dais to reach out to Simba, but the boy ducked his head out of the way. "I should have been there for you, when it happened – I hurried back as soon as I could when I realized the terrible truth of the matter."

"You lie!" Zira's hindbrain had apparently run out of patience, for she pounced right in the middle of the circle and snarled at Rafiki. "You didn't come back for Simba – I was the one who came and begged you to help him, and you refused! You didn't care at all, not even about the drought that's destroying the entire Pridelands, until I mentioned Scar being king. Then you struck the back of my head and ran all the way here to abduct Simba, just so you could cast your glamour on him and whisper lies into his ear!"

Angry murmurs went up around the crowd as Simba nodded to confirm this, but inwardly Scar cursed: That had been a point he had been saving up for a critical moment, to rob Rafiki of his momentum right after he made his accusation. Diplomacy was but an extension of war, and war could be reduced to the weapons and tools each side had at its disposal – you needed to use each to its maximum effect, for when you ran out you lost. Zira's lack of self-control might just have cost him the entire trial.

"Zira is the fiercest huntress in my unit," queen Sarabi said icily, "and a very good friend of mine. What do you have to say in your defence, Rafiki?"

The mjuzi bowed apologetically. "It is true, I fear. I did indeed lash out at fairest Zira, so distraught was I to learn of the events that plagued my home. You see, Zira's deep and profound love for king Scar is apparent to all, and I feared her devotion would drive her to alert him if I made my intentions known."

"Then why did you take Simba?" Young Nala had stepped forward, staring the much larger mandrill down with a protective fierceness that might have been heart-warming under other circumstances. "You told him you were going to take him to see his past, but that wasn't true, was it? You just wanted to tell him evil lies to turn him against his uncle the king."

All eyes turned to Simba, who shuffled awkwardly on the spot. "I mean… what happened is he took me to the swamp and told me to look into the water after making me sniff some weird stuff – I really did see my dad in the clouds then, just like he said, but uncle Scar said that what he told me didn't sound like my dad at all." Simba looked uncertainly at Scar, who gave him an unsteady smile in response. It was not much of a defence, but at least the boy had not abandoned him entirely.

Rafiki shook his head. "Oho, I'm very sorry my boy, but I'm afraid your uncle Scar's word proves very little in this case. Or any case, for that matter; or any matter, in any case – in case it matters."

"Indeed," said Zazu, landing besides Scar with a decidedly unimpressed look on his face. Had he been hidden amongst the stalactites the whole time? "I can confirm that His Majesty's assertions regarding his own splendour and cleverness are questionable at best. However, it must be said that when it mattered most he stepped up and performed above all reasonable expectations, and I fail to see why we should trust in his stead the word of one who abandoned his post in the kingdom's hour of need."

Scar looked at the bird in silent wonder: He had hoped that perhaps one or two animals might have something positive to say in his defence, after all that he had done for them, but this… in all the room, there was not a single person who had abandoned him. They had not told Rafiki to leave either, but still.

For some reason, the thought only added to the knot in his stomach.

"Zazu's right," said Nala's mother, Sarafina. Scar had never spoken much with the lioness, and knew little about her except that she was Sarabi's oldest and closest friend. "Rafiki, I know that you and Mufasa were close, and I understand that you're distraught over his death. But if that's the case, why did you leave us when we needed you most? This drought is destroying the entire Pridelands… all of us are suffering. I'm only now hearing that you can apparently call upon Mufasa's spirit at any time – If so, why did you not intercede with the spirits on our behalf?"

"Hah, what a stupid question," said the meerkat, slapping his knees as he laughed. "If you all knew about the things Rafiki can do, everybody would be asking him for help all the time! And then there wouldn't be any time left for _Hakuna Matata_ , if you know what I mean." He elbowed the old mandrill in the side, who looked anything but amused. "Isn't that right, Rafiki, you sly dog? Eh? Eh?"

"I… will admit that I've been somewhat remiss in my official duties," Rafiki said carefully. All across the room animals were shooting him dirty looks now. "But, all that is in the past! I was awash with grief following the death of my dear friend, Mufasa, and needed time to mourn." He clasped his chest with one hand and bowed deeply. "But now the time for mourning is over – the time for justice has come!"

"Justice," said Scar. "And what is this justice of yours?" He realized he was probably doing Rafiki a favour by asking that question, but he just wanted the whole thing to be over with. "Is it justice when the most vulnerable of our society suffer because of the egoistic negligence of the powerful few?"

"No," said Rafiki, as he clambered back onto the dais, "the justice I talk about is punishment for the murder of the greatest king we have ever known: Mufasa. That murderer is you, Scar! Or should I call you Taka, King of the Wastes?"

An outraged murmur went up amongst the crowd, but it was not as loud as it should have been; the result of Rafiki's efforts to lay the groundwork, spreading seeds of doubt in the minds of his audience long before Scar had even entered the room. He had lost so much of the fight already, just from the time he had taken to reassure Simba, and the argument he had had with Zira. Back when he was Captain of the Guard, he would never have made the mistake of entering the battlefield at such a disadvantage.

"A terrible thing to say, yes," Rafiki said. "But think back on what you know! Dear Scar might play the good king now, but have you all forgotten the way he was? I dare say every one of you has suffered an evil slight at his paws!" As he waved his staff across the room, Scar saw several heads dip slightly – too many, far too many, considering that Rafiki had not used any of his magics yet. "Old habits die hard, I say, and rotten apples do not turn fresh. His skills might have improved with practice, but the cat's tricks remain the same."

"How _dare_ you," spat Sarabi. She strode forward, standing tall and terrible. "You have no idea who you're even talking about. Yes, it is true that the Scar I grew up with was vain, selfish and full of resentment. He fought with Mufasa, true – they fought all the time. Yet there was no question that Mufasa loved him always, and trusted him with his life. And now that I have come to know Scar better, I dare say he has become every bit the king my husband was!"

 _No,_ Scar whimpered, mutely. _Please don't… please stop._

"All of us have come to rely on him," Sarabi continued, "and we have seen with our own eyes the deep well of goodness that resides within him. Not just as a leader in troubled times, who inspires courage in his people, but also as a dear friend, as a lover to Zira, and even as a parent!"

"Stop," Scar choked. _It hurts. Why does it hurt so much?_ "Please stop…"

"I don't know what I would have done without him," she said. There was a fire in her eyes now, as she advanced upon Rafiki. "From the moment I was born, I was betrothed to Mufasa. I was told he was my past, present and future, and he soon became the very rock upon which I rested. When he died, all that certainty was taken from me." Her voice caught as she looked to Simba, and Scar winced, for he knew what was coming next. "I failed then, as – as a mother. My own son lay alone on that very dais you stand on, shaman, haunted by terrible nightmares. I could not bring myself to help him, so caught up was I in my own despair. If not for Scar…" She turned towards him, but he could not bring himself to meet her eyes. "Not since Mufasa have I met anyone as relentless in his pursuit of the common good, so unwilling to grant himself a moment's respite for the sake of personal happiness. How noble in reason, how infinite in faculty, the very paragon of animals – revealing himself with every word and deed to be so very much a king!"

 _Mufasa… if I went outside now, would you be willing to strike me with lightning? Or just let me suffer?_

Sarafina reached for her with one paw. "Sarabi… I didn't realize–"

Sarabi brushed her off, her orange eyes fixed on the elder mandrill. "Scar is the greatest treasure this kingdom has seen since the death of my husband, and I know that I can say this with the fullest approval of Mufasa's spirit: That nothing could please me more than if he would consider me his queen!"

Gasps went up around the circle of lions and animals, though Scar had difficulty making out their expressions, occupied as he was with attempting to bury his head into the ground. Dimly, he noticed that Sarafina was staring at him in a new light, and from the corner of his eye he saw Zira wearing a satisfied smirk – it seemed she was quite enjoying her overdue vengeance.

"Wait, mum and uncle Scar?" Simba made a face. "Eww, that'd be _so weird!"_

Nala smacked him. "Don't be a child! I happen to think it's very sweet. I think they'd be great together."

"Ah, I believe I owe you an apology, my fair queen," Rafiki said, bowing deeply as he stepped down from the dais. "I did not realize the full extent of your feelings, and you are entirely right to say what you have: I have been absent, and so I have not seen how your king Scar might have changed. But this also gives me a more, shall we say… objective perspective, yes?" He walked around the circle of onlookers with long strides, causing them to turn their heads with a mixture of anger and curiosity. "Our good king Mufasa dies, prince Simba abdicates the throne, and the spirits strike our unlikely king Scar with a drought as punishment. You must admit it seems suspicious, no?"

"You have nothing," Scar whispered. "No evidence. That's why you took Simba to talk to my brother, Mufasa – but the very person you accuse me of murdering refused to indict me. You have lost, Rafiki."

"So it would seem," said Rafiki, though his eyes still gleamed with a dangerous light. From out of nowhere, he produced a pouch that he tossed in the centre of the royal den. "But it is the judgement of the spirits that must decide the matter, not the testimony of any lion, no matter how noble." He dipped his staff into the bag, causing a red mist to pour forth, and used the powder to draw a wide circle around him. "This is the circle of truth: Anyone who stands within shall be forbidden by the spirits to speak any lie. King Scar, if you are indeed innocent as you say, you need only step forward and say so!"

Scar eyed the bag with apprehension. There was no spell that could force out the truth, but there were certainly powders and charms that affected the mind, and that was a dangerous proposition. "I don't see why I need to prove myself to you, shaman. Every attempt you have made to indict me has failed."

"Oho, then I see no reason for you to worry! You only have something to fear if your conscience is guilty." He smiled at Scar, baring teeth. "And just to make it a fair trial, I shall add this solemn vow: If you turn out to be innocent, well, then I will submit to any punishment you deem fit for my vile slander."

All around him, the crowd looked on with renewed curiosity. Just a moment earlier they had seemed ready to throw Rafiki out, but now they wanted to see what would happen next. If Scar declined the challenge, he would lose all the credibility he had gained from Sarabi's speech – there would be cause for _doubt_. Scar could probably have refused regardless, claiming the powder to be a poison, and yet…

Rafiki was challenging him to a battle of wits.

He recalled what he had said to Mufasa, shortly before his death: _Temper, Temper._ _I wouldn't dream of entering a physical contest with you. Now if this kingdom had a more sensible system for transferring power, then certainly. But when it comes to brute strength, I'm afraid I'm at the shallow end of the gene pool…_

After everything that had happened – after all the blows the spirits had dealt him for which there was no possible defence – this felt almost _fair_. He felt the corners of his lips tugging upwards despite himself.

 _If this shaman thinks he can get the better of the captain of the Lion Guard, he has another thing coming._

He stepped into the circle. Right away he felt the smoke force its way up his nostrils, and he took the time to steady himself and adjust to its effects, carefully examining his thoughts for any sign of alteration. _Increased impulsiveness, compulsive behaviour…_ He flexed his muscles experimentally. _Reduced physical responsiveness. Blurring of thoughts. Adjust with increased focus and tranquillity._

"Zira," he said, consciously controlling each individual muscle in his jaw, "if he asks me about anything other than Mufasa's death, kill him." She grinned as if she had just been promised a new chew toy.

"Oho, already the spirits bring out your murderous nature," Rafiki said. "But I do not fear you, kinslayer. The Kings of the Past shall protect me. Now tell me: Who is responsible for Mufasa's death?"

"Wildebeests," said Scar. He let the fumes wash over him. In his mind, he had already blocked out any sense of guilt, not assuming a mere guise but _becoming_ innocent. "They trampled him in the gorge."

"Oho," said Rafiki. "And what caused this stampede?"

"Some commotion, I assume." Scar shrugged. "I was not there when it happened."

Rafiki's eyes narrowed. "Did you throw Mufasa into the gorge?"

"No." It had been more of a toss, really.

"Are you the reason he landed in the gorge?"

"No." That had been his other accomplice, gravity.

The mjuzi crossed his arms. "Did you intend for him to die?"

"I thought I did, when I was younger and more foolish, but not since then – and ever since his untimely demise, I have done nothing but act with the thought of my brother's approval in the back of my mind."

Rafiki frowned. "Would a fair and wise spirit, possessing all relevant knowledge of the events that happened during that day and those leading up to it, judge you as guilty for the purpose of this trial?"

"I have oft asked myself that very question," Scar admitted. Several times in the last second, at least. "In truth, scarcely a day goes by without me judging myself guilty for the terrible events that happened that day, as I think back on what else I could have done." He hung his head low, and from the corner of his eye he could see his brother's wife and son reach out to him in sympathy. "But then I think of what a wise and noble being as you describe would have to say to that, like my dear Sarabi or young Simba over there, and I know without a doubt that they would reassure me that I am innocent."

"Enough with your games!" Rafiki thrust his staff at him as if preparing to call forth a storm, though Scar doubted he could do so inside the cave. "Answer me directly, and this time without twisting any words: Were you in any way involved in the murder of Mufasa, or did you in any other way deliberately increase, whether through action or inaction, the likelihood that Mufasa would die in that gorge?"

"I was not, and I did not." He had only ever intended to migrate Mufasa's spirit to greener pastures after all, which could hardly be considered a deliberate attempt at murder – it was not _his_ fault if the afterlife turned out to be a lie perpetuated by the likes of Rafiki.

Rafiki was working his jaw, grinding his teeth to the extent that you could see his muscles move. "Ohoho. I seem to have underestimated little Scar. Oh, the cat has learned new tricks, oh yes indeed…"

"Enough of this," said Sarabi, though Scar could see that she was visibly relieved. Somehow that still hurt to see, despite everything. "Rafiki, put a stop to this mockery of justice. Scar is clearly innocent!"

"Oh no," said Scar, raising his paw in admonition. The fumes were definitely influencing him now, but he did not care to stop it this time. "I might not have murdered Mufasa, but I could never claim to be innocent." He turned to the old mandrill, who was watching him wearily. "You said that there is not a person here who has not suffered an evil slight at my paw, and to that I confess. Sarabi called me selfish, vain, and full of resentment, and to that I must confess as well. To her charge of being like my older brother, however, I am wholly innocent – I could not think of a single person more ill-suited to follow in his paw prints, nor any king less deserving of the title or more unworthy of her praise. Indeed, her words have damned me harder than any accusation you could hope to conjure, monkey. If any of my friends and family suspected me of murder, then nothing is easier for me than to forgive them."

Several of the lionesses looked mortified now; their faces flush with shame at the thought of their earlier suspicions. Sarabi was foremost amongst them. "Scar…"

"No, no," said Scar, waving her off. "I'm not done. I also confess to taking your staff all that time ago, Rafiki, in a foolish and desperate attempt to recover my powers as Zira once suggested to me. As an adolescent I had dared imagine, for one brief moment, that I might deserve some manner of second chance in the eyes of the spirits, but I should have known better than that considering the company they keep. For that is the real reason you are here, is it not? The fact that I had the audacity to borrow a power which you consider to be rightfully yours." He smiled predatorily at Rafiki, who flinched at the sight. "And on that note, I will confess to one last matter – one more damning to my character than anything else I have said so far: That I am going to enjoy what Zira is about to do to you _immensely."_

"Indeed," said Sarabi. Her iron features had returned. "I think it is high time for justice to be done."

All around Scar the lionesses advanced on Rafiki, who swung wildly with his staff to fend them all off. Behind him, Zira was almost slavering as she prepared to pounce, her grin as bloodthirsty as Scar had ever seen it. Right as she was about to leap Rafiki swung with his staff and batted the bag of dust right into Scar's face, and he fell onto the ground with a scream, blinded and choking on the noxious fumes.

He struggled to get back on his paws, still coughing and wheezing as his eyes burned and the world spun around him. Through the haze he dimly saw that Rafiki was holding Zira hostage, grappling her from behind with his staff against her neck. "Do not move! The Asura might know a few tricks, yes, but let us see if his faithful Asuri is as clever!" He bent her over the fumes which were now spreading across the whole room. She choked and struggling vainly as the toxic smoke was forced down her throat.

 _Zira… no!_ "That's – that's no fair," he protested feebly. His head was spinning, his thoughts drowned out by the tumultuous maelstrom that was wreaking havoc with his mind. "You said... you said you would, submit…" _She's not attuned. She doesn't have training. She's going to, to betray me. All is lost…_

"Answer me, Asuri," Rafiki said, "What did your evil master tell you? Did he kill Mufasa?"

All around the room, lionesses were backing off, as much from the threat to Zira as from the fumes that were spreading ever further. "He – he's not…" She gasped for breath, but only inhaled more fumes. "He never said anything… murder. Only that he is, afraid, of spirits. They… hate him, like, like you all do…"

Rafiki cursed and tossed Zira aside with a twist of his staff. "Even trained your mistress, did you? Cunning, very cunning, oh yes… but did you think to train _her son?"_

Scar tried vainly to see through the crimson fumes and the acid that scorched his eyes, but when he did his despair redoubled – for Rafiki was now dangling _Nuka_ from one hand. He desperately tried to remember what he had said in his presence, if there might be anything the boy had _overheard_ …

"Tell me," Rafiki said, his voice reaching a fever pitch, "tell me boy! Your master is evil, yes? Tell me of the thing he did!"

"Lemme go!" The mangy cub twisted wildly as it tried to escape from the mandrill's grasp. "I ain't telling you nuffin'! Zira's gonna eat you, and, and…" More and more of the red fumes entered the boy's lungs as he gasped and wheezed. "And… and then Scar's gonna kill you, all of you! Just like mum always said he should." The boy twisted to dangle in Simba's direction, who looked even more horrified than he had before. "Yer not, yer not his son… I am! Scar's my real dad, and he's – he's gonna kill you and your stupid mum and make me his true heir, and then he's gonna take that stupid monkey staff and use it to get back his powers and fight all the stupid spirit kings and make himself _god_ _king of the whole world!"_

"Aha," said Rafiki, dropping the boy in his excitement. "I knew it! I knew it!"

Scar's mouth drooped open, heedless of the fumes that were pouring in. "That – what? No, that's, that's not _true_. The boy is clearly – clearly delusional." He shook his head, trying to get his thoughts back in order. "And, I mean, I know that's totally what I would say if I were guilty, but I'm – I mean, he's not…"

"The spirits have revealed the truth," Rafiki crowed, practically dancing on the spot. The fumes had to be affecting him as well, for all that he had built up a resistance. "Now you see, my friends! Now you see!"

The lionesses were looking on in shock from where they had gathered in the back of the cave. Only Sarabi still dared approach, heedless of the fumes, utter horror painted on her face as she confronted Scar. "It's not true," she whispered. "Scar, tell me it's not true."

"It's not true," said Simba. The boy stood there, alone, right in the middle of the fumes. Somehow Scar had managed to miss him. "He didn't do it, mother. It wasn't…" He faltered, choking on more than the crimson powder alone. "It wasn't him. Rafiki took me to see dad in the swamp, and I saw him in the clouds, and he said…" He looked at her, pleadingly. "It's all my fault. I'm the one who caused the stampede, by practicing my roar." Tears trickled down his cheeks. "He was so, he was so _disappointed…"_

"Damn it boy," Scar growled as he struggled to get up. "I told you. I bloody well _told_ you: Don't you ever dare apologize to me! You owe me _nothing_ , do you understand? Nothing!"

The boy winced, curling up into an ever-smaller ball until he was almost the same size as back then, which hurt Scar's chest so much more cruelly than the toxins ever could. "But… but I didn't listen to you, uncle Scar. If I had just stayed at the tree like you said… Dad said, he said that, that I had forgotten–"

" _Shut up,"_ Scar breathed, gasping for air. "Stop talking, you stupid – foolish boy! Why am I cursed with, with a family that is this, this dumb. You _saw_ him climb, move up right to where I was!" Simba stared at him, no sign of comprehension dawning in his innocent brown eyes. "Damn it boy, you saw him fall with your own eyes! You saw us fight just four days before!" Nothing. "I tossed him into the ravine! I murdered him because I despised him, I listened calmly as he begged for mercy _and I watched with glee as the last light left his eyes!"_

Distantly, Scar became aware that the sound around them had died. Rafiki had stopped dancing. The lionesses had stopped retreating. The crimson mist had settled. Sarabi was staring at him.

"Scar, dear," he heard Zira faintly say, "this would be a very good moment to _run."_


	7. Tiryagyoni

**A/N:** In Buddhism there are three different realms in which a being stuck in Samsara can be reborn. Within the desire realm you can be reborn as a human, which is considered to have the greatest potential as you can use that life for good and thus be reborn as higher beings such as Deva. However, if you do not live such a good life, you may instead be reborn as an animal (Tiryagyoni).

Now if you're a big Buddhism fan, you might be saying: But Sophronius, surely the title of this chapter should be Manuṣya then, since Scar and Zira both clearly have the potential for spiritual development common to the Human Domain. To which I reply: _They're lions, you numb nut!_

* * *

They burst through the tunnel and leaped down the entryway, tumbling over the rocky ground as they tripped and stumbled in the darkness before getting back on their paws and running once more. Adrenaline carried them through the desolate savannah until Scar finally crashed and could go no more.

"Get up," growled Zira, nudging him with her snout. "Get up! They could still be behind us."

"What's it matter?" Scar groaned. He lay on the cold and barren ground, which was too dry to be called dirt. The last of the withered grass died beneath him with a sigh. "It's gone – it's all gone. It's over, Zira."

"Nothing is over until you're dead," said Zira, biting on his mane and pulling sharply. "Get up, damn it!"

"And go where?" Scar stared past her at the clear night sky, where the stars shone down on them just as they had back then, when his father first told him of how the Kings of the Past watched over them from above. He had felt so small then, in the face of a divine power that he might one day borrow but never truly wield, and the feeling had never quite left him. "They know, Zira; they know everything. The monkey played his game and won. We can never go home again."

"They know because _you_ chose to give up and told your enemies the truth right when you had them on the ropes! What, did the thought of winning frighten you?" She looked at him in disgust. "You know, my son might be a weak and pathetic mess, but at least he's not confused about which side he's on!"

"Yeah," said Nuka, "you tell him, mum!"

Scar turned his head, not willing to look her in the eye. The stars were beautiful, and the press of the cold earth on his back was oddly soothing. Even the dry air smelled right, in that moment.

"That's it, isn't it?" Her voice had dropped to the barest whisper. "It wasn't the powder, and it wasn't the monkey's magic. You were thinking about the future, and you thought, you thought to yourself–" Her voice caught. "What about your vision, then? Do you remember, when we shared that meal together beneath the stars outside your cave? You told me how you thought the Circle of Life was foolish, and how differently you would rule if you were king and I your queen. Was all of that a lie?"

Scar shrugged. "It was a while ago." He was distantly aware that Zira was staring at him. He no longer had the will to hold back the effects of the red powder that still ravaged his system, and his mind swam with its effects – it had to be, for else he could have sworn that he saw tears forming in her eyes.

"Enough!" Zira bit his toe, and Scar jumped up with a startled yelp. "Anything worth saying is worth fighting for. Get up, you worthless coward! I will chase you all the way to the Outlands if I have to."

Scar ran, once again finding himself on the path of least resistance. Even young Nuka kept pace beside him – it seemed the fear of his mother was as well ingrained in the boy as it was in him. _Maybe he is my son after all,_ he mused. He chuckled darkly at the thought.

 _You've lost, brother. All that effort with your drought and that damnable headache, and you still can't spite me nearly as well as I spite myself._

As they ran, Scar noticed the scenery growing darker and bleaker around them, and for the first time he looked to his companion as he spoke. "Zira? Where are we going?"

"To do what you should have done right from the start," she spat. "Gather an army, and win by _force."_

Her meaning soon became clear, as all around them the skeletons of great elephants rose. Scar did not know how old they were, but they had been around even when he was a cub. Somehow, those old bones were even more intimating now than they had been back when he was still young and foolish.

"Well look at that – a royal visitor! To what do we owe the pleasure of this distinguished company?"

The trio skidded to a halt at the sound of the voice, and turned to find a hyena standing on top of a skull several times her own size. Scar had convinced himself that those skeletons had grown in his imagination, but if anything they were even larger than he remembered. "Shenzi…"

"You've got some nerve, coming back here after what you pulled with poor Banzai." She leaped off the skull and landed in front of them with deceptive ease. "Did you come to give us that mountain of food you promised? No? Doesn't look like it – unless that scrawny cub there is your down payment."

Zira growled and pulled Nuka back by the scruff of his neck. "Shenzi, we require an army. We need your hyenas to assault Pride Rock and reclaim King Scar's rightful place on the throne."

"Oh? Sounds like there's trouble in paradise. What, did that tricksy tongue of his get him in trouble again?" All around them, hyenas were emerging from the elephant graveyard – some squeezing between giant rib cages, while others drooped out of eye sockets like so many carrion worms. Some slavered, some snapped their teeth; all of them were chuckling hollowly. "Here's a better idea," she said. "We take our army, slaughter our way through any resistance, and take Pride Rock for ourselves. With Mufasa dead, the Guard disbanded and the new king and queen here all by their lonesome, there's nobody left to stop us." She smiled humourlessly. "Looks like we're at the top of the food chain now, boys and girls."

Zira turned and snapped at the approaching hyenas, swiping at any who came too close. Several of them yelped and jumped back with bloodied noses, and she snarled with vicious satisfaction. There was a desperation in her eyes, however; she knew she could not hope to win, not against an entire hyena war band.

"Shenzi," Scar said. An odd sense of calmness had come over him – perhaps the aftereffects of the red powder, or perhaps he simply found the threat of imminent death to be a more reassuringly familiar challenge. "Our pantry is still full of meat, and we have a pool of cold water for you to drink. All you need do is distract the lionesses for us, and we'll share it with you. There's no need for a painful battle."

"Oho, no need for a battle he says. Hold on, let me just consult with my advisors." She turned to the two slavering hyenas that guarded her flanks. "Ed? What do you think?"

" _Eheheheh… eheheheheh… heh."_

"I see," she said. "Hang them by their entrails, eh? What about you, Banzai?"

" _Eheheh…. Heheh… heheheh."_

She gasped. "Eat the adults first, and make the children watch? Oh Banzai, you're too much."

Zira leaped in front of her with a roar so full of bloodlust that the hyenas leaped away in terror. _"I will slaughter your entire worthless species if you try!"_

Scar took advantage of this change in momentum to clear his throat and step forward. "Listen to yourself, Shenzi, and then listen carefully to me. Throughout your entire history, the Lion Kings have made your people out to be savage, stupid scavengers. They forced you to live in this desolate wasteland for a crime your ancestors committed and which you had nothing to do with." He gestured up at the stars, which were as cold and silent as ever. "Those same Kings are looking down on us even now: Nothing infuriated them more than when I made you their equal, and nothing would please them more than for you to prove me wrong. Let our victory be your revenge."

"Sweet words." She gave him a look that indicated exactly what she thought of such. "And why exactly should I listen to the captain of the Lion Guard, the exact same group that hunted down and slaughtered us by the dozens? Why should we hyenas put our lives at risk for the king of our most hated enemy? For the very person who turned poor Banzai into _this?"_

Scar looked her in the eye. "Because when I had everything and you had nothing, I acknowledged you."

She glared at him a moment longer, and then turned away in disgust. "You have until dawn. After that I will slaughter every lion in sight, no matter what new scheme you're trying to pull off."

"Thank you." Scar dipped his head in acknowledgement, and then hurried back in the direction he came from, trusting Zira and Nuka to follow him. It seemed he had recovered some of his earlier energy, or perhaps the red dust had finally worn off, for he moved with far greater ease than he had before.

After a while, he heard Zira speak up behind him. "So… what's your plan then?"

"I don't have one yet," Scar admitted, "except that I know two things: We need to figure out how the spirits really work if we're going to have any chance of beating Rafiki, and I have to find Simba and beg him for forgiveness if there's to be any hope of a happy outcome for anyone in the Pridelands."

"Ah." There was another pregnant pause. "Go on, say it."

"What?"

"You were right. Trying to win with brute force didn't accomplish anything – instead I almost got us killed. I just thought, that maybe if I _tried_ … but I guess I was just a stupid young lioness after all."

Scar turned to regard his mate, who was running behind him with her cub resting on her back. "No. You tried something, at least. Sometimes it's better to do something stupid than to do nothing at all."

She nodded, though it was hard to tell if she was really satisfied. "So, where are we going?"

"To the secret lair of the Lion Guard," he said. "There's something there which I suspect we'll need, if we're going to figure out how these spirits really work. Speaking of which: Zira, you never did tell me what happened when you found Rafiki's hideout. Tell me _exactly_ what you saw there."

She did, and by the time she finished Pride Rock stood looming over them. Scar cursed under his breath as he brushed aside the vines that obscured the entrance. "So that's how it is… I'm such an idiot."

"Scar dear, you're doing that thing again where you're calling yourself an idiot for failing to realize something which I still haven't realized yet."

"Sorry, I'll explain in a second." He ducked low as he darted through the tunnel, taking care not to trip over any of the rocks and stalagmites that littered the cave system. The starlight that poured down through the hole in the cavern's ceiling was barely enough to make out their surroundings, and it took Scar several moments longer to find what he was looking for between the rocky outcrops.

"Rafiki's staff," Zira said in amazement as Scar pried it from between the rocks. "You kept it."

"Of course I kept it," Scar said. "It's a mystical object of undefined power – I wasn't going to return it just because I couldn't figure out how to _use_ it. No, I just left a similar looking stick in its place when I took it, though I don't think it fooled that cunning old mandrill for a second." He tossed the staff onto the ground in disgust, the dried red fruits attached to the top clattering along with it. "All this time I tried to figure out how to use the staff, and I entirely failed to notice the blatantly obvious. The crimson smoke he used back in the chamber, that powder he gave Simba to show him visions of Mufasa, and finally the mural paintings he used to reveal Nuka's plight to you." He gestured at the walls of the cave which displayed all around them the history of the Pridelands, with crude drawings picked out in shades of red.

"They're all the same colour," Zira said in realization, drawing in a sharp breath. "It's not the staff – it's the fruits that are attached to it."

"I would have realized it much earlier," Scar said bitterly, "but I had already pinned all my hopes on that bloody staff when I was younger, and my fears of being wrong prevented me from considering any alternative." He pried the fruits loose from the stick, and began smashing them apart with a rock. "The only animals capable of communing with spirits are the lion kings and the royal mjuzi. Why only those?"

"Because they are the greatest and wisest animals in the kingdom," Zira said automatically.

"Yes," said Scar, "but then why do only the Lion Kings go on to the afterlife? Why is only the captain of the Guard able to use the Roar of the Elders?"

Zira stared at the fruits which were rapidly transforming into a red paste under Scar's workmanship. "That powder… Rafiki used the same colour paint to mark Simba during his presentation! And also during Mufasa's royal ceremony – and I'm guessing the captain of the Guard is marked with it as well."

"Exactly." Scar spat on the paste to make it a bit more gooey – he could only hope the end result would somewhat approximate Rafiki's true product. "All of his rituals and over-the-top theatrics were merely intended to disguise the obvious truth – that spiritual power comes from being enlightened, not from any mere stick. What we have here is the only known substance that can help with that." Acting on a hunch, Scar smashed two pieces of flint together to set the staff on fire right on top of the smashed fruits, and finally a thin trail of smoke started to rise from the red paste he had created. "Now, breathe."

She gave the smoke a dubious look. "What's the point? I'm no king or captain, and I'm not exactly mjuzi material, now am I?"

"You _are,"_ said Scar, observing her reaction closely. "I watched you back at the royal den. You resisted the effects of the smoke, maintained your sense of self, and kept a clear distinction between how you felt and what you thought to be true despite the situation. Even I couldn't have managed that without my years of training. All you need now is to find your centre and focus on the mind-altering effects of these fruits, and then you will be able to intercede with the spirits on my behalf."

"Focus?" Zira laughed bitterly. "Scar, you _know_ me – I get distracted the moment I see anything I can pounce on. I'm not like you: I've never been able to control the way I think, or how I feel."

"You're wrong," said Scar. "I've seen the way you hunt – you are absolutely relentless in your pursuit once you have your mind set on a target. All you need is to find something worth focusing _on_."

"Something worth focusing on…" Zira hesitated for a second, and then beckoned to her cub. "Nuka! Sit over there and keep quiet. Mommy needs to fantasize about all the horrible things she's going to do to those nasty hyenas if they ever betray her by going back on their word." She settled into a crouch and bored into the boy with burning crimson eyes, while he just sat there and trembled, whimpering quietly.

"…okay," said Scar. "Right. Good." He settled into his own meditative pose and focused, trying vainly not to think about the upcoming confrontation and all the horror that would come to pass if he failed. He tried to reach out to the spirits through his connection, but they were as silent as the stars whose faint light trickled down through the opening above.

 _Brother… I know you despise me and want nothing more than to see me fail, but if you could just hold back your ire long enough for me to undo my mistakes and save your kingdom, I would be much obliged._

* * *

 **A/N:** That's it for chapter seven, only a few more to go! So no, the last chapter was not the final one. Apologies to anyone who was confused about that.

By the way, there's now also a TVtropes page available for this story, to be found here: tvtropes DOT org/pmwiki/pmwiki DOT php/FanFic/ScarsSamsara. Please feel free to head over there and give it an edit or link to it on other pages, as it'll help give this story a bit more exposure. : )


	8. Asura

**A/N:** Asura means 'jealous god' or 'anti-god', and it's one of the six forms within the Desire Realm into which a soul can be reincarnated. Asuras are spirits who possess sufficient will or wisdom to rank above humans in power, but who have fallen victim to their flaws and passions and so are unable to reach the state of deva (angel). They are often those who committed acts of evil despite having good intentions.

Of course, there's no real-life equivalent to reincarnating as an Aura. Or is there? Transhumanists say that technology will keep advancing as time goes by, and so eventually we'll figure out how to become immortal. All we have to do is survive until we reach that point, even if it means freezing our dead bodies to preserve them, and then we'll get to live in eternal bliss. I have to say, that does sound pretty sweet!

But for any of that stuff to ever happen, humanity needs to not destroy itself first. That's, uh, kind of an important condition for success.

* * *

Scar and Zira were disturbed in their meditation by the sound of panicked shouting coming from outside. It seemed Shenzi and her hyenas had finally arrived, for all that Scar wished he could have just sat in that cave forever. He looked dolefully through the hole in the ceiling, from which thin rays of starlight still poured down. It would not be much longer until dawn broke.

"Scar," Zira whispered. There was an urgency in her tone that sounded almost like fear, though that was ridiculous. "It's not too late to change plans, if you don't feel up for it. We could just – we could slip away in the confusion, leave all of this behind us."

Scar idly dipped his paw into the remains of the red paste. He had decided to conduct the formal ritual after all, even though it most likely had no effect on their abilities besides the obvious. "Zira," he said. "In accordance with ancient tradition, the Lion Guard are made up of the Pridelands' strongest, fastest, fiercest, bravest and keenest of sight." He pressed his paw onto her shoulder, leaving a crimson print. "You are all of these things, and so I name you my Guard, and into your arms I entrust my life."

"We could run away together; start our own pride." Her eyes were almost pleading. "Scar, these people hate you; you don't owe them anything! Those hyenas were going to destroy them sooner or later anyway, and the drought is not your fault – there's no reason for us to risk our lives on their behalf."

He did not reply, but moved on from one ritual to the next. "Zira. You are my trusted advisor in all things; you are in possession of a singular focus and will, and you wield the power to intercede with the spirits on my behalf." He touched a single paw pad to her forehead, resulting in a circular mark not unlike a third eye. "As such I name you my mjuzi, and unto your spirit I entrust my soul."

She looked away. "Stupid, smooth-talking _jerk_. Oh, why did I have to fall in love with a snake like you?"

He hesitated for just a moment before continuing. "Zira. For reasons that defy reason, through words that cannot be spoken and decisions that were never made, the two of us have become one." With his paw he drew a line across her brow, its two halves meeting in the centre where the circle remained, forming a crimson tiara. "And so I name you my queen, and into your bosom I entrust my heart."

She sighed, and pressed her own paw onto his shoulder, returning the mark that he had carried ever so long ago. "And you are Scar: My captain, my lover and my rightful king. And if death ever does us part, then I swear I will drag your soul back screaming to where it rightly belongs." That last part was not traditional, but he suspected that if the ritual did have an effect it would only be stronger because of it.

After that there were no more excuses to delay. He sighed deeply, and started to move towards the exit. He stopped and turned when he realized that not one, but two sets of footsteps were following him.

"I can fight," Nuka protested. There was a stubborn set in the boy's jaw. "I'll prove myself to you, dad! I'll beat that stupid monkey for you, and then you'll be king again, you'll see!"

"First of all, I'm not your real dad," said Scar. "Secondly: No."

"Why not?" He heard Zira's shrug more than he saw it. "Let the boy make himself useful for once. There's no point in having him around if he's just going to sit here and wait in a cave."

"Zira," Scar said tiredly, "remember what I told you about the mjuzi? Spiritual power comes from gaining awareness of your own soul – and that means being honest with yourself, and with how you feel."

"Well I'm not a bloody mjuzi," Zira spat back. "I'm a _hunter_ , and so is my son. We fight and we chase and we kill, and that's all we're good for. We'd still be out there now, crisp grass beneath our feet and fresh blood running from our teeth, roaring together in triumph if not for–" She looked away. "Never mind."

Scar hesitated, looking from the frustrated mother to the uncertain boy. Nuka seemed torn between wanting to comfort her and not wanting to become a bloody smear on the wall. "Zira… I'm sorry."

"I said never mind!" Zira snarled at Scar, loud enough to make him jump. "Why don't you ever _listen_ , you…" She shook her head. "Forget it! We've got more important things to worry about right now."

"That you do, my lady." They all spun and turned to face this newcomer – only to find a blue-and-red hornbill perched atop of a stalagmite with a perfectly casual air. "It's good to see that _one_ of you has your priorities in order, at least."

"Zazu," said Scar. "How…"

The bird sighed theatrically. "Sire, I know spatial reasoning is difficult for you mammals to grasp, but I _am_ capable of traversing the third dimension, you know." He gestured at the hole above them. "Also, I might lack auricles, but I can still hear you talk. As could the entire rest of the Pridelands, were they not currently occupied with fending off an unfortunately-timed hyena invasion."

Zira and Nuka were staring along with Scar, unable to decide what to make of this development. Scar was once again getting the sense that he did not truly know the person he was talking to, despite all the years they had spent together. "I thought – after everything you said about wanting to keep things the same, and your loyalty to Mufasa… you'd be, well, against me." He had never dared imagine otherwise, in fact.

"I'll bet he still is," growled Zira. Her muscles were tensed, ready to pounce. "Don't trust him, Scar. He's a talker."

"Hah, you're both right," Zazu said. "I was indeed loyal to the king, Sire, and had I been aware of your plans at the time I most certainly would have warned your brother of your ill intentions. Yet now that you have succeeded, I find that I am once again loyal to the king and resistant to change. So as you can see, my worldview is perfectly consistent." He idly gazed towards the exit, from which ever-louder noises could be heard. "The battle would appear to be starting: Dare I suggest you take advantage of the confusion to put some manner of plan into action? You, ah… you _do_ have a plan, don't you, Sire?"

"Just the bare bones of one." Scar sighed. "I need to sneak past the others and get to Simba: I have to convince him to forgive me, somehow. And then I need him to help me convince everybody else."

"I see," said Zazu. "Well Sire, your plan appears to be entirely devoid of your usual attempts at cleverness. I approve." There was an odd glimmer in his black eyes. "You'll find the young master at the very top of the summit: The royal mjuzi ordered him there to focus on his new meditations while he deals with the hyenas. He'll, ah, rather be in need of your positive influence, I fear."

 _That_ didn't sound ominous at all. "Thank you. I think."

"Don't mention it. I'll just go and keep the queen mother focussed on the hyenas then, shall I?"

"I would appreciate that." He hesitated. "And Zazu? You're a good friend."

"I'm nothing of the sort," Zazu said as he flew away. "A friend would have given you a right walloping for what you did. I am, however, a most _excellent_ servant." He paused briefly at the top of the hole, only his beak poking out as he spoke. "And ah, not to put too fine a point on it, Sire, but your brother _did_ instruct the young prince to practice his pouncing on me whenever he found me annoying. Mufasa was charismatic and strong, yes – but perhaps also just a tad bit brutish?"

Having spoken those words, the beak vanished. It seemed the bird was gone.

"I still don't trust him," Zira said. Her son growled in agreement.

"We don't have a choice," said Scar. "We need to go, _now_." He ran for the exit, cursing silently at the fact that there were once again two sets of footsteps behind him. When he reached the opening to the outside, the sounds of battle grew louder – though fortunately they were still screams of challenge and not of dying. There was a sharp wind blowing, and it did not take him long to find its source.

Dark clouds had gathered above Pride Rock, roiling like a maelstrom the likes of which he had scarcely seen before, and underneath it all a lonely figure posed. On the very tip of the overhanging rock that had once been used for Simba's presentation, Rafiki stood whirling his staff and chanting rituals, and with each turn of his staff the wind picked up its pace. There was the sound of frightened yelps coming from below, as one after another the distant shapes of hyenas were hurled away by the winds. Sarabi and her pride charged down the entryway to chase the remainder away, but no sooner were they out of range of the storm or the Hyenas rallied again, forcing the lions back once more.

It was a perfect stand-off, one no doubt helped by the small figure that hovered above Sarabi and which never ventured far from her ear. _Zazu…_

"This is our chance," He whispered without turning around. "The road to the Summit is clear. We can sneak past Rafiki and make it there without a fight."

"Don't be an idiot," Zira hissed. "Our most powerful enemy has his back turned to us: This is our chance to take him out, once and for all."Next to her, Nuka nodded and grinned with savage glee.

"And if the others see us fighting him? What happens then?" He sighed. "Zira, you don't win a war by fighting every battle – you have to keep your eyes on the true objective." He stalked towards the winding path leading up to the summit without looking backwards – there was no time left to argue.

A sudden tremor sent a scattering of pebbles rolling down the path, and for a second Scar thought that Rafiki's magic had caused an earthquake, but then a blurred shape came rushing down the path and bowled him aside as only a charging warthog could. He tumbled and fell on top of Zira, and they both scrambled back onto their paws as they took in the sight arrayed before them. The Warthog and the Meerkat were once taking position along the flanks of their old enemy, as he calmly advanced towards them.

" _All right,"_ said the meerkat, whooping and cheering. "Now that's what I call a successful charge! Come on; did you guys really think you could outmanoeuvre the smartest animal in the Pridelands that easily?"

Zira snarled at the sight. "Damn it, Scar, _I told you!_ I bloody well told you!"

The old mandrill bowed mockingly. "The king of the trash heap has returned! Have you come to steal back what's wrongfully yours, oh wasteful king?" He indicated the barren wasteland that extended all around them. "I'm surprised you still want it, considering the state you left it in."

"Rafiki," Scar said, resigning himself. "That's an odd thing for you to say, considering that your spirits were the ones who brought the drought upon us in the first place. Though now I see why you and the Kings of the Past get along so well: You're both tired old has-beens stuck protecting your rut, trying desperately to hold on to a power that belongs to the next generation."

Rafiki did not deign to answer this, instead gazing over their group before settling on Zira as if spotting her for the first time. "Is that the marking of a royal mjuzi I see? And you made her your queen and captain as well... I'm impressed, little Scar: I did not think you paid any attention to my lessons as a cub."

"You should be," Scar agreed. "I think I finally see why the position of royal mjuzi has been with the mandrills all this time. I mean, have you ever _tried_ making a fruit paste by banging rocks together with your paws? Those disposable thumbs of yours sure must come in handy."

He frowned. "Don't you mean: Opposable thumbs?"

Scar grinned wickedly. "They won't oppose me for long."

Zira rolled her eyes. "Oh for goodness sake, enough with the wordplay! Let's just murder each other and be done with it." With those words she pounced at Rafiki, who narrowly fended her off with his staff while the boar charged straight at Scar. This time Scar managed to leap out of the way in time, and he scrambled up the cliff face where the warthog would not be able to reach him. When the boar turned to charge Zira instead, Scar leaped off the cliff and landed on top of it, savaging it with claws and teeth while it squealed and ran in circles in a vain attempt to try and shake him off. From the corner of his eye, Scar saw that Nuka was mauling the Meerkat as it desperately tried to crawl away. That just left one.

"Zira," he called, "use your powers! Don't try to fight him in melee!"

As if in reply, Rafiki slammed the butt of his staff onto the ground, and the entire group was hurled away. Scar slipped and fell onto the ground with a painful grunt, earth and dust washing over him as it choked his throat and lungs. Through a haze he saw Rafiki advance once more, parting the cloud of dust with a single brush of his hand before pointing his staff directly at them.

"Zira, use your connection to the spirits! Stop him before he calls upon the winds again!"

"I don't know how! And I don't _have_ any spirits to call on, remember?"

The clouds above them roiled and twisted, and with a turn of his staff Rafiki sent a tempest crashing into them. The two lions flew backwards, rolling along with the gale and impacting the cliff face with a painful crunch. The mountain shuddered, and several boulders came crashing down in front of them. Scar and Zira rushed behind them, hoping to use them as shelter from the storm.

"Zira, listen to me! Remember Nuka's admission, and Simba's vision? It was all a lie; they were only saying what they _thought_ to be true, not what's actually real." Scar ducked his head low as the storm intensified and several stone fragments hurled overhead to strike the cliff face behind them.

"It feels real enough to me!"

"Yes," Scar shouted, trying to make himself heard over the storm, "but it's not really coming from his staff! The power comes from _within_ , Zira." He ignored her vexed expression. "Look, the point is: Spirits might be stronger for their lack of flesh to weigh them down, but they're ultimately still just animals with the will to keep themselves together after death. And that means there's no reason why you can't use the same power!"

Zira glared at him. "Well what about _you_ , then? You're the one with the actual training! If I don't need any spirits, why should _you?"_

Finally the wind slowed down a little, just long enough for them to stare at each other in relative silence.

"Together," Scar said, and Zira nodded in response. He closed his eyes in search of a connection, and this time he felt a second spiritual presence responding in kind. The two snapped together like a tether, drawing on each other and growing more powerful as each cord wound around the other to form a single, sturdier bond. The spiritual pressure built up inside of him until it could be contained no longer.

The two lions leaped over the rocks and _roared_ in conjunction, the raw wind pouring from their mouths like a hurricane. Rafiki dropped his staff in a panic as he desperately raised his own storm to counter it. The two forces clashed in the centre, wind pushing against wind and forming a tornado between them until it all blew apart in a single eruption of force. The entire group was tossed aside, and Scar was once more hurled through the sky, landing hard onto the rocky ground. Through his pained and blurry vision, he saw that the warthog and meerkat were fleeing down the entryway, clearly having had enough.

Scar laughed despite himself, chuckling through the pain in his chest. "There go your friends, Rafiki. Looks like you're all alone again. First Mufasa, now them – it seems you just can't catch a break."

"I'm never alone," said the mandrill, though something in his voice had shifted. "Never. The spirits themselves are with me. The kings of the past are my guide, and I am their humble vessel."

"Their pawn, you mean." Zira gave a contemptuous snort. "Do those Spirit Kings of yours even talk back to you, or do you just sort of mumble to yourself in the vain hope that someone is listening?"

"I've heard their whispers in my dreams ever since I was a child," Rafiki said softly. "And then whenever I awoke, I'd imagine what it would mean to one day have their ear as well." He worked his jaw a second longer, and then raised a trembling finger at Scar. "Everything I ever wanted, you were born with – and you had the temerity to _complain_ about it. To whine, as if being a prince with divine power made you a _victim_. You threw it all away for nothing, and then instead of making amends you tried to steal my power to replace your own. And when all of that failed, you murdered your own brother – my closest friend and our rightful king – purely out of _spite_."

"And I have regretted it ever since." Scar's muscles ached and he longed to shift position, but he bit through the pain and stood his ground. "I was going to go up the summit and beg his son for forgiveness, actually. What did _you_ do?" He regarded the stubborn and bitter look in the old mandrill's eyes, which seemed so familiar as to be painful. "Let me guess: You begged the Kings of the Past to reveal my true nature? And so they sent a drought to the Pridelands, in the hopes of turning the lionesses against me – but when Sarabi and the others refused to abandon me they doubled down, so that in the end you almost destroyed your own country and your own people… purely out of spite?"

Rafiki shook his head in disbelief. "I am nothing like you, Asura. Do you think you can manipulate me as easily as you did the others? You are a murderer, a liar and a thief, and your fair Zira is a bloodthirsty monster. You are both creatures of evil, and I will destroy you. That is all there is to it."

Old resentment flared anew at the casual judgment of his character, but though it left a bitter taste in his mouth it no longer had the impact it once did. "You're right," he said. "Perhaps I am evil. Do you think that excuses your actions? That it makes you any less a pawn of a hateful legacy?" He returned Rafiki's sardonic look with one of his own. "Hey, I have an idea. Why don't you call off that storm of yours so the lionesses down there can hear us fight? I'm sure you could beat us without much difficulty if you had their help."

Rafiki stared at him, and said nothing.

"Oh, but you can't, can you? Are your beloved spirit kings having too much fun with the hyenas?" He idly picked up the staff that Rafiki had dropped and tossed it aside. "You know, I used to think that Zazu was pathetic, but at least he's _aware_ of his role in life. And that makes all the difference, doesn't it? You're more like Nuka: A sad, pathetic creature desperately trying to garner favour from uncaring masters. No offense, Nuka." He glanced behind him, but found only Zira standing there. Perhaps the boy had gone off to chase the boar and the meerkat – it was not as if he would even lose to them, at this point.

"A pawn, am I?" Rafiki was baring his teeth again, in the way that you only saw in cornered animals. He started to raise his arms to the sky, but stopped halfway, choosing instead to hang them loosely by his sides. "You are correct. I am a _pawn of the gods!_ I am the whisper of their wind; I am the thunder to their lightning; I am the flickering of their flames – and you, my friend, you are ash! _"_

There was a _clap_ of thunder as arcs of blinding light flashed across the blackened clouds above, and Scar cursed under his breath. "Zira! Quick, stop him before he–"

"I'll do it!" Nuka leaped down from the cliff and landed on Rafiki's back, who screamed as claws and teeth dug into his unprotected flesh. Lightning crackled through the air as it arched uncontrollably all around them, darting in impossible directions. "Are you _watching_ , father? I'm doing it for you – and I'm doing it for me!" There was a _crack_ and a flash of blinding light, and the ground shook as the earth beneath Rafiki and Nuka was torn apart and they hurled down the cliff in a blazing ball of white-hot fire.

" _Nuka!"_ Zira raced after them, but they were gone, vanished down the cliff's edge. The flaming rubble had struck the surface at the base of the cliff, and the fire was now spreading to the nearest trees, the dried out timber burning like matchwood. The forlorn body of a lion cub lay in the centre of the flames.

"Bring him back," she said, turning to Scar. "Use your roar – _do something!"_

"I – I can't," said Scar, staring weakly at the sight. "Zira… he's gone."

She snarled at him with a bloody fury, and he shrank back in terror. " _You worthless, pathetic excuse for a man!_ Fine then, I'll do it myself!" She plucked the discarded staff off the ground with her teeth, and without any further warning leaped off the cliff's edge and into the fire below. Scar watched in horror as her body crashed into the wreckage next to her son and was consumed by the blazing fire. A red mist spread to cover them both as the flames ignited the staff's crimson fruits.

 _Zira... what have you done?_

Distantly, from out of a corner of his eye, Scar noticed a hairy hand grasping the cliff's ledge. Then another followed. Slowly, almost casually, Rafiki clambered back onto the cliff and dusted himself off, somewhat singed and with an awful smell wafting off his smoking beard, but seeming otherwise unhurt.

He idly followed Scar's gaze towards the burning wreckage below. "And there goes fairest Zira," he said, sounding almost regretful. "All her life she was driven by madness, and in the end, madness drove her down a cliff." He idly patted down his smoking beard. "I wish I could say I knew her well, but ah… let's just say that I knew her better than I would have liked."

"Rafiki," Scar said slowly," there are no words for how dead you are."

"Oho," said Rafiki, unimpressed. "Well then, here's to the fight between the two smartest animals in the Pridelands: The royal mjuzi and the captain of the Lion Guard. A duel pitting magic against magic, power against power, will against–" He trailed off as he noticed the red smoke rising ever higher, growing largerand thicker by the second. The smoke formed a crimson cloud and then– "What in the _blazes?"_

The cloud had formed into the shape of a face, the way Scar had only seen once before during Simba's vision, and which he had told himself he had only imagined. The ghostly visage did not rise up into the sky, however, but remained there: Waiting.

In its mouth there was a second, smaller cloud, looking terribly lost and fragile. It was a lion's cub.

The connection snapped into place, this time so much stronger than before, as Scar felt the presence of not two spirits but _one._ It was ready, waiting, needing only the command that they both already knew.

"Zira," Scar whispered. "Bathe my enemies in fire."

The cloud gathered and fell upon Rafiki, red mist choking his lungs as it scorched him with its infernal heat. He flailed and screamed in terror, drawing in more of the smoke with every frightened shriek while the mist grew ever darker. At last flames erupted and engulfed him, his flesh alight as the crimson fire consumed him whole. As the last of his screams died out and perished with the remnants of the storm, only a blackened husk remained, adding a second darker smog to mingle with the first.

Scar advanced on the smoking husk, and after only a moment's hesitation, inhaled deeply.

Above him, Simba waited.


	9. Nirvana

**A/N:** Nirvana is the release from the pain of Samsara, which can only be attained through enlightenment, as I'm sure you've guessed. There is not one single recipe for wisdom, of course, but what I think this world needs most of all right now is rationality. If there is to be any way for us to exist in peace as a species, we'll need to learn not to take things at face value. We need to think and critically examine our own thoughts and beliefs, especially those that are most precious to us, since those are the ones which we are most likely to be wrong about.

I would like to say that I wrote this story specifically to teach that lesson, but ah, well… there's also the small matter of lion cubs. They're very cute, you see.

We gotta be honest about our motivations, after all.

* * *

The red and black smog blended together into a dark crimson, and when Scar breathed it in, it was by far the worst thing he had ever smelled. It overpowered even the stench of death that lay buried directly underneath – the stench which he had come to know so well all that time ago…

For one moment his vision swam, and then he crashed into the ground. The last he saw was the peak of the summit, looming over him.

* * *

"What is that _smell?"_

Scar blinked, trying to regain his bearings. His paws were trembling as his stomach heaved as though it were trying to crawl out through his mouth. He was – he was on a hill, somewhere, though it was hard to make out his surroundings through the crimson fog that extended all around him.

"That's the smell of death, my son. You should get used to it, for you will encounter it a lot."

Scar startled wide awake. That _voice_ … as he looked up, he saw that a male lion loomed over him. His fur was yellow, but his mane was black and his features sallow. He looked far more like Scar than he did Mufasa, though that had never made any difference, somehow.

"I don't see why I have to be here," the other voice complained. "Taka's the one that's gonna be captain of the Guard. Not me."

"And you're the one that's going to be king, and yet he still has to attend those lessons as well." The yellow lion beckoned them onwards, up the lonely hill which peaked out above the fog. "Look down."

The valley below was a scene of devastation. A distant part of Scar recalled that there had only been a hundred hyenas or so, but in his vision they were crawling across the field in their thousands. They drove endless herds of cattle before them, leaving behind a trail of chewed-up corpses like an ever-expanding boneyard. As the animals' screams rose up to the sky, they were answered by a flash of thunder from the dark clouds above. From on top of a rocky outcrop a lone mandrill raised his staff, and at his behest lightning lanced down from the heavens, tearing the earth asunder with its fury. As scores of hyenas burned and were torn apart by this divine onslaught, the smell of copper rose and blended with the stench of fire and death that was already overpowering Scar's senses.

The yellow lion took a deep breath. "This is your destiny, son. Look, there is the Lion Guard making ready for the charge. One day, it will be you leading them against the enemy."

"Why is it only lions?" He realized with surprise that it was his own voice that spoke, though it sounded much weedier than it ought to be. "I'd bet a crash of hippos or rhinos would see them right off."

"Because it is the lions' duty to defend the kingdom." For the first time, the king turned to address him directly. The subtle slant in his eyes made him seem at once wise and weary, stern and unreachable. "All year long the royal family feasts on the zebra and the antelope, but when the season of war arrives, we are the ones that fight and fall while they seek refuge at Pride Rock. For that is the true meaning of the Circle of Life: Life pays for death and death for life, as it has done and will do throughout eternity."

"That's still dumb," he heard himself say. "So what, the lesser animals let us eat them instead of moving away because we protect them from other predators, but it only works because there are foreign predators who in turn protect their subjects from us? That sounds like a scam."

"Don't be disrespectful!" Suddenly Mufasa's face was in his vision, snarling at him. They were of the same litter, but nonetheless his brother had always been larger and more intimidating than him. "The Circle of Life is the reason we exist and why we have everything that we do. Isn't that right, father?"

"Get off it, you brownnoser." Scar tried to shove him away, but his arms were pitifully weak. In response his brother leaped on top of him, his paws pressing down on his chest until Scar could no longer breathe under the strain. Mufasa's face bore an almost playful grin, but underneath it all there was a sense of smug satisfaction – the easy confidence of one who wielded power over others. "Get… off of me!"

"Cut it out, both of you!" Ahadi shoved Mufasa roughly aside, and finally Scar could breathe again, though the smell instantly made him wish he couldn't. "This is a _battlefield!_ Does that word mean nothing to you children?" That well-worn glower on his face still made him flinch, even now. "I am disappointed in you two – especially you, Mufasa. As the eldest child and the future king, you should know better."

His brother weathered the rebuke with his head held high, managing to look proud even when brought to shame. Scar growled at the sight. "Why would you expect better from _him?_ I'm the smart one!"

"Enough!" Ahadi turned away. "It is time for the charge. I need to join up with the rest of the Guard."

"Why does it have to be _you?_ Let someone else lead the attack while you stay here, father."

"Because I am the King and Captain, and it is my duty." He sighed. "Perhaps one day you'll understand."

"There's nothing for me to understand!" He reached out to his father, but in his dream they were miles apart, and his paw never reached. "You'll die out there, and for what? Because of honour and duty and the Circle of Life? Those're all just words that you made up!" He snarled as Ahadi pulled away from him. "You don't really love us at all, do you? You're just a selfish idiot who's going to get himself killed for no reason. And then the crown will go to my stupid brother who's got no idea what he's doing, and–"

His father turned around and slapped him in a single movement, and the yellow paw rang against his skull. Through blurred and hazy vision, he saw that Ahadi's claws had still been extended, and through his left eye the world ran red. His father either had not realized or did not care, for he was already going.

"Taka," his brother said, fear and worry in his voice. "Taka, are you all right?"

He pushed him away again, this time finding the strength to manage. "Go away! I don't need your pity."

Mufasa stared at him with that stupid dejected look on his face. "Taka…"

"That's not my _name,"_ growled Scar.

* * *

Scar shook his head, his senses slowly returning to him as the last of the smoke cleared. With one paw he reached for the scar on his left eye, which seemed to be aching once more. That battle hadn't been when it really happened, but it seemed his vision did not care about such niggling matters as truth.

 _What are you trying to tell me, spirits? That my family are all clueless jerks? But I knew that one already._

No, more likely it had just been a dream, brought about by the desolate scene that extended all around him. Down below, the storm was still playing havoc with the hyenas and forcing them away from the lionesses, for all that Rafiki was no longer there to direct it. He really had been just a pawn, it seemed.

Still, he could not count on his good fortune to last. It was time to do what he had come all this way to do.

He moved no more than two steps before his legs gave way beneath him, and when he looked up he saw that there was a lioness in front of him. Her features were hard to make out through his hazy vision.

"Sarabi?"

Her paw descended on his throat, and he gasped as she almost crushed his larynx. "Give me a _reason."_

"To kill me? I can think of many." Scar tried to chuckle, but the pressure on his throat reduced it to a choking cough. "Sarabi… You told me that Mufasa was your rock, and that without him you lost all certainty in life. Now that I betrayed you, I imagine you feel the same way once again." The pressure redoubled, and he turned his head to try and give himself some room to breathe. "But… but although that certainty was an illusion, so is the way you feel now: The world's still the world, and your rock's still your rock. How else could it possibly be?"

Mufasa wouldn't kill Scar in her situation, and they both knew it. Although, if she did kill him, he'd have to explain things to him instead. He was not sure which he preferred, at this point.

There was a gust of wind, and with it came the barest whisper of a voice. _"…smooth-talking jerk…"_

Slowly, the pressure lifted, and Scar took that as permission to get up. "Thank you," he said. He gingerly rubbed his throat. "And Sarabi, I'm sor–"

He blinked: There was nobody there. _Did I black out again after she left, or was all of that another dream?_ And perhaps more worryingly, was there any difference at all?

He shook his head and headed up the winding path that lead up to the spire. He paused briefly when he realized that the tiniest glowing ember was floating behind him, carried by the wind. When he started walking again it reluctantly drifted along with him, as though pulled along by an invisible thread.

 _Oh._

"You're stuck with me, aren't you?" He sighed, but did not halt his long walk up the path. "I'm sorry, but you have your kid, and now it's high time I saved mine. You understand, don't you?" After drifting just a moment longer, the ember bobbed towards him, and started circling around his head like a lost firefly.

 _Zira… I'm sorry. You deserved better than what I gave you._

Up the winding path he went, and though his eyes were closed to hold back tears, he could feel the passage of the stones underneath his paws. The old injury in his paw was aching again, and he could feel the throb of all the accumulated bruises from his falls, but he paid them no heed.

At last he felt the wind blow onto his face and through his mane again, and he knew that he had reached the top. He took the last step up onto the summit and opened his eyes. The surface of the peak was as flat and desolate as it had always been, except that at the very edge sat an adolescent lion. Someone must have placed a brazier in front of him, for a thick crimson smoke was billowing upwards into the lion's face.

"Simba…"

"Uncle." The lion did not turn around: He must have heard Scar coming, despite the wind. "Master Rafiki told me to stay here and practice my lessons away from the hyenas. Is it true what he said, that you sent them here to attack us?" There was a brief pause. "Did you kill him too?"

"Simba," he said again, his voice faltering. "You should step away from the smoke. It's not safe."

"Not safe." Simba turned around, and Scar saw to his dismay that the boy's noble features were marred by crimson markings. He recognized the symbol for a newly anointed king on the lad's brow alongside the mjuzi's circle, as well as the Guard's paw print on his left shoulder. It seemed that Rafiki had been trying to fashion himself a weapon. "What are you doing here, uncle?"

Scar winced. For just a moment it had almost felt like he was talking to his brother again, back when Mufasa had warned Scar never to threaten his family. "I'm here to apologize," he said, the words ringing hollow in his own ears. He hesitated, finding himself once again equipped with nothing but the truth. "And, well, I was hoping to get you to convince your mother to end this conflict between us."

"To turn me against her, you mean." Simba's expression was one of rank disgust, though it did not seem to be directed at Scar. "You know, that's the first thing Rafiki said to me, after he found me with Nala. He told me that my dad had a message for me: That he was murdered by a hidden enemy, someone more ruthless and cunning than any hyena. I didn't have any idea who he could possibly mean." There was a gust of wind which blew Simba's red strands of hair across his face. "You weren't kidding when you called me an idiot, uncle."

Scar flinched again. "You're not an idiot, Simba – I am. Everything I told you up until that moment was the truth. I had convinced myself I was tricking the red powder with my cleverness, but in fact I was more honest with myself than I had been in a long time. It was true when I said that I wasn't worthy of your mother's praise; that I was selfish and full of resentment and that I didn't deserve my title or your appreciation. It was only when the dust settled that I said the absolute worst, dumbest lies."

For the first time Simba looked uncertain, if only slightly. "So you're saying you _didn't_ kill him, then?"

Scar shook his head. The fact that he might still have been able to convince Simba of that made it hurt all the more. "I did, but I didn't do it because I hated him. I did it because I was… afraid."

"Afraid," Simba repeated, hollowly. "Why, did you think that he was going to grab you and throw you down the gorge instead? That maybe he was plotting to have you trampled to death by wildebeests?"

"No," said Scar, "I was afraid I would die while he was allowed to live on forever, just because he didn't want to disappoint our father by going back on tradition; because it's just so much easier to justify things when you're the one who holds all the power. I didn't want to have to watch as Zira and anyone else I cared about disappeared forever, and, well… I guess I was afraid of caring for anyone else at all." He shook his head again. It was strange, how every time he spoke he heard words he never thought he would hear himself say. "I told myself I wasn't really killing him; that I was just helping him move on to the next life, but really I had no idea if that was even true at all. The fact is that I killed my own brother, your father, because I was a coward who couldn't face up to reality. Simba… can you ever forgive me?"

"Forgive you?" Simba stared at him emptily. "Forgive you for killing my dad, lying about it, and then telling me bedtime stories when I couldn't sleep from the nightmares? For making me think I was the one who did it and calling me an idiot when I tried to apologize?" His hair rose and his muscles tensed as black clouds roiled and churned above him. _"You killed my dad and seduced my mum!"_

At the sound of his voice the winds rose up and grabbed hold of Scar, hurling him backwards. He felt his chest lurch in terror as he realized he was falling off the summit, but then his claws found purchase and he was hanging onto the edge for dear life. He looked up, and saw that Simba was staring down at him.

"You should've killed me," said Simba. Strands of red mist were circling around his head, just like the smouldering ember did for Scar. A thin trail of tears trickled down his cheeks. "You should've… you should've just killed me!"

Scar scrambled back up the cliff, his heart pounding as he looked his nephew in the eye, trying vainly not to flinch. "What… what're you going to do?"

"Go away," said Simba. "Leave, and never…" He shook his head as though trying to clear the mist from his face. "No, he's not… no, that's not right." He staggered dangerously, and for a second Scar thought he would fall, but then he steadied himself and walked away from the cliff's edge. "Wait… hold on. Stop!"

Scar followed the mist to its source, and found the brazier from which red smoke unnaturally rose to follow Simba wherever he went. He gave the burning embers a sharp kick, taking care not to touch the dust with his own paws, and watched as it flew off the cliff's edge – only for a sudden wind to carry it up above them where it formed an angry swirling pattern in the sky.

And then it all came rushing down.

"No, stop!" Simba screamed as the red mist fell upon him, his cry of anguish dragging the powder down his throat and throttling him as he flailed along the ground. "Stop it! You're _hurting_ me!"

" _Get away from him!"_ The wind roared along with Scar and blew into Simba, targeting not the boy but the smoke itself, yet for every strand of mist that was forced away two others forced itself down the boy's throat, and his screams lost all semblance of sanity or reason. Flames seemed to ignite across his fur as the crimson markings flared into life, angry red lines burning themselves ever deeper into his skin.

Simba screamed once more, and this time the whole sky screamed with him: There was a _clap_ of thunder, and Scar had just enough time to raise the earth in a dome around him before there was a flash of blinding light followed by another clap that shattered it. Stone fragments hurled through the sky as the world tumbled and fell around him, and then the sky flashed white once more.

 _Zira, protect me!_

Pillars of stone rose up all around the summit, raising bulwarks meant not to shield him but to _catch_ the lightning, and when they did they exploded into countless shards. Entire segments of earth and rock broke off from the summit, piles of flaming debris hurtling towards the ground below and igniting the trees that stood there. Still more lightning struck the base of Pride Rock, adding to the growing inferno.

Through the flashes of light and the ringing in his ears Scar rose and clambered over the debris to look for Simba. He found the boy shrouded in a yellow light like a cloak of golden flame, and Scar snarled at the sight. Somewhere deep within him, a black rage which he had thought long defeated rose anew.

"Mufasa!" The golden lion turned to face him with eyes red as fire. "You finally got what you wanted, brother: A chance to face me and make me pay for what I did. So, was it worth it?" He gestured at the devastation all around them; at the dead and blackened Savannah that stretched on endlessly and the billowing fire that threatened to consume it all. "Look around you! Look at what your rage has wrought. All throughout the kingdom your subjects are dying of hunger and thirst, your pride is shattered, and your own family – your own _son_ is forced to pay the price!"

The golden lion _roared_ with a scream so suffused with rage as to be beyond reason, and the ground groaned from the reverberation. Cracks formed in the earth as the summit split apart beneath his paws, and before Scar knew it he was falling: He had one second to twist in mid-air and see the ground rushing at him before a sudden wind caught hold of him and plunged him into something that gave way and turned the world blue around him. He stared up, dazed, floating, and saw the stars above him.

There were twelve of them; a dozen blue lights surrounding a lonely crimson ember. One by one the blue lights fell upon the red one, and then they were no longer stars but lions. All twelve of them leaped atop her, and she desperately batted each aside, clawing one and biting another. They were on her back, tearing into her flanks, their teeth searching for her throat as she screamed.

Scar paddled towards the surface, trying feverishly to reach up to her, but there was an entire ocean between them and he seemed to get no closer. Another roar from Zira split the heavens, and Scar realized she was not screaming in pain or fear at all: Somehow, she was _winning_. She grabbed hold of one of the lions and threw him into another, and then her teeth found the throat of a third. One by one the lions fell, reducing them to stardust – and yet a single golden star still stood before her.

Scar broke the surface of the water and gasped, coughing up water he did not realize he inhaled, and forced himself to take in the sight before him. A crimson smoke filled the great cavern of the Lion Guard, coalescing into a cloud of smog and fire, and as he watched the cloud fell upon the golden lion. Before he could do anything, he felt the water from the pool rise up into the air as it dragged him along in its wake. When he fell onto the ground the water continued without him, and it was only then that he realized what was happening. The water crashed into the burning smog, and with a scream like a _hiss_ of dying embers the flames went out, until only golden light remained.

" _Zira!"_

A single ember fell from the remnants of the smog, clattering onto the ground while emitting only the faintest crimson glow. Scar tried to reach out for it, but a golden paw idly batted it aside.

Scar looked up at the lion before him, the black rage consuming him like it never had before. He stared at his enemy, too livid for words. The yellow light had covered Simba completely now, leaving the boy utterly unrecognizable. Beneath the coat of gold his markings still shone through, blazing red and angry, and from the yellow flames around his head rose up a black smoke that was almost like an adult's mane.

"Death does not become you," he spat. "You've changed. The Mufasa I knew would _never_ have acted like this. You… you are not my king, and you are not my brother." Terror and fury warred within him, competing for dominance, but he forced himself to look his enemy in the eye regardless. "You're destroying everything, and for what? You killed my queen, starved my subjects…" He gritted his teeth at the sight of Simba's blistering flesh. "And now, your own _son…"_

" _ **How dare you bring up my son,"**_ the yellow lion roared, _**"When it was you who killed him!"**_

Scar stared in shock for just one second, and then the ground trembled again as the cave crumbled all around him. Stone spikes rose from the earth to impale him, and it was all he could do to raise walls of his own to block them. He scrambled between the bulwarks even as they groaned and squeezed under the force, threatening to squash him flat. "Father? Father, please stop – it's me, Taka. Your son!"

" _ **My son is dead!"**_ Ahadi roared again, and this time the whole cave came crashing down on top of him. Scar hurriedly squeezed into one of the side-tunnels, but even so he could feel the stone groaning under an invisible strain. He tried to run, but the walls of the tunnel edged in ever closer, warping, shifting, growing talons and _holding_ him down, until finally the stone split apart and he was dragged by the legs out into the open, lying naked before a golden sun. _**"Murderer."**_

"No, father, please–" The stone around his paws squeezed, and he screamed out in pain. "Stop it, you're hurting me!" He tried to reach out for Zira, but the connection was so faint it might as well not be there. He reached further, searching for anyone who could help – if there was anyone left in the Pridelands who he had not yet made into an enemy. _Sarabi, Zazu… anyone!_ Ahadi roared one last time, and the golden light blazed into Taka, burning into his scar as if carving it anew. Fire raced through his skull as he _screamed_ from an agony he had never imagined possible – until the golden light set the rest of his body on fire and his new torment eclipsed even that. " _Somebody_ , _anybody_ …" His vision blurred with tears as he made one last desperate, unthinking attempt to find a connection. _"Brother, help me!"_

There was a _clap_ of thunder as something slammed into the golden lion, and for one brief second Scar could feel Simba's connection flicker into existence, and he pulled on it with all his remaining strength. There was a brief tension as the world see-sawed around him, and then the connection came loose with a _snap_ followed bythe sound of a small body hitting the ground with a thud.

Scar blinked against the golden specks that were still burned into his retinas, and when he opened his eyes again he saw that the specks had turned into drops of rain, pouring down from the massive hole that had opened in the cavern's ceiling. It seemed that the long drought had finally ended.

"…uncle Scar?" Simba opened his own eyes, clearly finding it difficult to do so. "What… what just happened?" He lifted his head slightly, taking a drowsy look around. "How'd we get down here?"

Scar tried to get up, but found that the stone around his paws made it impossible to do so. "We were attacked," he said instead, settling down on the cool moist rock. "I think… I think your dad saved us."

"Oh," said Simba, closing his eyes and letting his head drop down again. "That's good."

"Yeah…" Scar considered saying something else, but the boy was already sleeping. The rain pattered down on the two of them as they lay there in silence. After a moment's struggle, Scar managed to get one arm loose enough to place his paw over Simba, sheltering his nephew just a little from the rain.

* * *

 **A/N:** That's it! I'll write an epilogue after this, but aside from that this chapter concludes the story. I have to say it's been an absolute blast writing this, as you could probably tell from the rate of updates. Overall I'm very happy with the end result, though there are surely some things that I'd go back and change if I wrote it all again. Please write me a review to let me know what you think, even if it's just a short message! And if you know of anyone else who's interested in this kind of thing, forward it to them. The more people get to enjoy this story, the more I'll feel like it was time well spent.

Though to be honest, I would probably still have written it if nobody had read it at all.


	10. Epilogue

Scar took a deep breath as he beheld the endless savannah which stretched out before him. All over the Pridelands tufts of green grass were once again sprouting from the earth as the first flowers bloomed. It was astonishing to think how much verdant life had been hidden within those withered plants and blackened trees. It was becoming harder and harder to remember how bleak everything had looked, back then.

"Are you sure about this, uncle Scar? I could probably convince mum to give you another chance. I mean, she's still pretty angry with you, but I don't think she'd say no to me if I really asked her."

Scar turned and gave his nephew a wry smile. Every day the lad seemed to grow another of those long red hairs, though they were still a far cry from a true mane. The look in his eyes had aged as well, for all that the boy had forgotten their fight back then. Perhaps it was the scars that did it. The angry red lines had been burned into his flesh that day, and were still painful to look at even now, as his own scar ached in sympathy.

"Yeah," he said, still staring at the strangely familiar sight. "I think it's better to make myself scarce for a while. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and all that." He tugged at the ring of dried gourds which hang around his neck. "Besides, somebody has to take over Rafiki's job. The old mandrill might have been neglectful of his duties and obsessed with me to the point of lunacy, but he was still the Pridelands' spiritual advisor. Since I'm the one who killed him, I imagine it's my responsibility to assume the role."

Simba gave them a thoughtful frown. "You really think it's possible to make animals immortal with those red fruits? I mean, I've seen what they could do back in the cave, but I dunno, uncle Scar. It seems to me that getting all the animals in the Pridelands to gain enlightenment is a pretty tall order."

"It's certainly more effort than just declaring everyone to be king for a day." He sighed and turned his gaze back to the endless savannah. "Still, I'm the one that promised them all immortality, and if I'm going to hold on to any part of my wounded pride I'll just have to see it through. Perhaps if I start by training a select group of acolytes, and then have them train others in turn…"

"Right," said Simba, still looking doubtful. "Uncle Scar... do you really think I'll do all right as king? I know I talked about it all the time as a kid, but I kind of liked being able to just help out and follow your lead on things." He stared down at his paws and the tiny prints they had made in the earth. "There's so much stuff I don't know yet, and I'm worried I'll end up making the same mistakes that caused all of this stuff in the first place, just like dad and grandpa did. Or, well, like you."

Scar smiled ruefully as he ruffled Simba's hair, causing the crimson strands to fall in front of the boy's eyes. "Kid, I wouldn't worry about being anything like me. If anything you've only got my good traits, like my supreme cleverness and roguish good looks." Simba huffed as he pulled away from his paw, but Scar noticed the small smile that flitted across the boy's face. "Look after the others for me while I'm gone, will you? I'd give you some parting advice on how to rule, but everything I've done has only ever made things worse. I rather suspect that the Pridelands will be better off with you than me."

"Truer words have never been spoken, Sire," a voice said behind him. "At least, not by _you."_

Scar jumped as he noticed the hornbill perched atop a withered tree, from which small green buds had begun to sprout along the branches. "Zazu. How long have you been sitting there?"

Zazu sighed theatrically. "One of these days I'll explain the concept of aerial flight to you, Sire. For now, suffice it to say that the queen mother has instructed me to see you off. All to make sure that you really are leaving and this is not some trick, no doubt."

"No doubt," Scar said, not quite able to hide the amusement in his voice. "Well, I suppose we'd better oblige our fair queen, then." He hesitated, turning to Simba once more. "Remember to keep practicing your meditations, Simba. You'll need the training if Ahadi ever tries to possess you again. And try and see if you can talk to your father again, for real this time. If you do… tell him I'm sorry."

A pair of stalwart brown eyes stared back at him. "Do it yourself."

"Right," said Scar, rubbing his brow with one paw. "I guess that's fair." He paused when he realized he could feel a spiritual connection, and for a second he imagined it was his brother, but then a gust of wind blew a tiny glowing ember along in its wake. It hovered in front of Scar for just a moment, examining him, and then resigned itself to circling around his head once more.

Simba laughed, startling him. "Friend of yours?"

Scar looked at him in surprise. "You can see her?"

"The firefly? Sure." The boy cocked his head quizzically. "She really seems to like you, huh?"

"She has a terrible taste in men," Scar quipped. As if in response, there was the faintest whisper on the wind, like the hiss of a dying ember. He did not need to hear the words to know what she intended.

 _It seems we're stuck together, just like you said we would be. But the question is: Are you haunting me, or am I haunting you?_

"Yes, well," said Zazu, "as fascinating as all this talk of lost fireflies is, we really must be off." He puffed up his feathers. "Don't you worry, Sire: The queen and I will advise the young king to the best of our abilities, and together we'll ensure that his boyish antics don't reduce the Pridelands to a barren wasteland while you're gone. Unlike some other kings I could mention."

"Hilarious." Simba rolled his eyes. "Feel free to accompany him all the way to the border, Zazu. No need to hurry back."

"Oh no, I wouldn't dare risk dereliction of my duties, young Sire." He hummed thoughtfully. "Addressing you as such might take some getting used to, I must say." He shot into the air with a beat of his wings, pausing mid-flight to turn and look at Scar as he hovered in place. "Are you coming, Sire?"

"Just a second." He turned to face Simba one last time. "Will you ask Nala and Sarabi for my forgiveness at least? For their sake, if not mine – I know what such feelings of resentment can do if left to simmer for too long." He hesitated. "I already tried apologizing to your mother's still-living spirit during one of my fume-induced visions, but I think that might have been Zira instead. They're really quite similar in disposition, when you think about it – at least when it comes to wanting to murder me in my sleep."

Simba stared at him. "Uncle Scar, you are so weird."

He grinned at the boy. "You have _no idea."_

With those words he turned at last to follow Zazu, who was already flapping ahead impatiently. After a while the hornbill swooped down to his level, and the two of them carried on in agreeable silence. The recent rain had made the soil soft again, and the fresh greenery was an encouraging sight. Even the grazing antelopes and giraffes seemed livelier than they had been before, though Scar had no idea how aware they really were of everything that had happened at Pride Rock.

After a while Zazu coughed politely. "Sire, where are we going? Pardon me, but I rather imagined we would be heading through the desert and towards the oasis where the previous mjuzi had set up."

"We'll go there later," said Scar. "First, I have to fulfil some promises to the hyenas and do what I can to prevent another conflict from breaking out in the future. I have a rather long list of past misdeeds for which I must make amends, I'm afraid."

Zazu sighed. "I suppose I should be glad that you're able to acknowledge the fact, at least." It was silent for a moment longer as the two companions travelled through the sprawling savannah. After a while Zazu spoke up again. "Say, Sire, do you think you could explain to me how one goes about attaining enlightenment? Not that I'm buying into any of that immortality business, mind you; it's just that I've set my eyes on dying last, and I would hate for you to beat my perfect record."

Scar smiled, and thought a moment before speaking. "Why, it's quite simple in essence, really. It's all about being honest with your feelings and finding out what it is you truly desire. From there, it's just a matter of considering the probable consequences of your actions and making sure to always act with your true goals in mind – something which I had to learn the hard way, let me tell you."

As they talked, the peak of Pride Rock slowly disappeared from view behind them.

* * *

 **A/N:** And here we are at last. It's been one heck of a ride, and I can't tell you how glad I am that I didn't just stick to writing one chapter. This is actually the first multi-chapter story that I've completed and shown to anyone, so I'm feeling pretty great right now. If you enjoyed the story, please leave a review to let me know what you thought of it! And if you're in the mood for more rationality, check out my other story The Need to Become Stronger, visit r/rational on reddit, or go to Less Wrong for the internet's greatest compendium of rational learning material (also known as the sequences). Zira knows that the world needs it right now…

Thanks for reading, everyone!


	11. Scar's Samsara 2: Kion's Cause

What's this? A Scar's Samsara sequel? Oh boy, tell me it's so!

I never intended Scar's Samsara to continue, but gosh this stuff is just too much fun to write. This story picks up where the last one left off, except one generation later. It's very roughly based on The Lion Guard, which is basically The Avengers set in the Pridelands, but I don't actually expect anyone to watch that show so just jump right in and enjoy!

Just as a teaser, I've included a preview of the story below:

* * *

The blast crashed into the hyenas before Kion even knew what was happening: It was like his rage itself was lashing out at his enemies, _burning_ them _._ There was a golden light pouring forth from somewhere, perhaps some hole in the cave's ceiling – but no. It was coming from him. He was radiating starlight.

He rose, ignoring the pain that flared in the side of his neck as he advanced towards Janja. There were several more hyenas opposing him, but he blasted them aside with bursts of wind and stone. All around the crippled hyena the corpses of his comrades lay scattered across the cave.

"Kion?" Janja struggled to get away, but it was no good – his paws had been scorched, and he dragged them uselessly across the ground, mewling pathetically. "Hey. Hey, stop, no more."

 _Worthless trash / kill him_

"Hey, Kion. Come on." He grinned weakly. "It's me. You remember me, right Kion? Remember all the fun times we had together?" The grin slowly slipped from his face as Kion approached, only to be replaced with raw primordial terror. "Hey. Hey Kion. Come on. Hey."

One of the other hyenas was dragging itself over to Janja, trying to protect him. Wounded, half-burned and close to dying, but willing to shelter him with her body if need be.

 _Hate hyenas / so much_

Kion opened his mouth and roared, one last time.

* * *

And that's just the opening scene! The remainder of the story can be found on the Lion Guard category on this website, so if you want to read the rest (of course you do!) head over there now, or just click on my name at the top of the page and you'll find "Kion's Cause" there. I hope you like it, and be sure to leave a review if you do!


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